Believe in Tomorrow
by selfluminousbody
Summary: Years after All Out War, Dwight and Nan live a peaceful life, raising their daughter in the new world. However, just when it seems their lives couldn't get better, they must face new threats and people from the past. Sequel to Save Yourself.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do no own The Walking Dead, or characters from The Walking Dead, or any canon/ non-AU material or dialogue. I only own my my OCs and AU material. Enjoy!**

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" _To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow." – Audrey Hepburn._

* * *

The jingle jangle of keys drawing near uplifts my eyes. The room's not as dark, which means it must be morning. When I had opened my eyes the first time, it was still pitch black and the crickets were still shooting the shit outside, so I close them. No sense in waking up early, even if my body's still trying to after all this time.

Rays of pale light pierce through the thirty-one by thirteen-inch barred window. Not sure why the window's got bars on it, it's not like I could squeeze my ass out through it, let alone hoist myself up there.

I drop staring at the window above my cot when I hear the key slide into the lock and draw the bolt back into the door. It drags back out and then the creaking of the door opening shortly follows. More light floods in, exposing the set of stairs. I sit up, leaning my back against the wall.

His footsteps are deliberate and steady. He appears from the cave-like stairwell with a bowl in one hand and a mug in the other. He's got the same look on his face that he's always got; the look that doesn't brag, but still boasts his self-sense of superiority. The fucking "I'm better than you" look.

"Mornin," I greet as politely as I always do, "What's for breakfast?"

Rick scoffs through his nose, before walking up to the bars of the cell. He drops the bowl down, making the spoon inside it startle.

"Here." He says, before setting the cup of water down beside the bowl, then turning to leave.

"Don't you wanna stay and chat for a while?" I ask him. "Pull up a chair and read me the funnies. Has your bigger, better world gotten around to printing newspapers yet?"

"I'm busy, I don't have time to entertain you." He gruffly replies.

"You never time for me anymore," I blandly say, "It's making me feel so alone and unappreciated."

"Don't worry," He tells me as he heads up the stairs, "I'll be back later."

"Counting on it." I exhale with a dry tone.

The door shuts and I listen to the key groove in, turn the bolt, and then pull out again. I get up from my dingy ass cot and walk over to the bowl and cup. I take them both back to the cot and sit, setting the mug on the floor after I take a drink from it.

Fucking scrambled eggs with dry ass toast. It's the same shit every morning. Sometimes there's a little gristle scraped off a pan they were cooking meat in mixed in. On rare occasions, there's even a little gravy, but it's the watery crap that comes in an envelope.

But it's the eggs that really chap my asshole. Figuratively and literally. It's two parts powdered eggs, one part real egg, but it's always fucking runny as hell and it goes through me like shit through a goose. I think that's why they give me the toast.

I'd gag at the smell of the eggs, if I wasn't hungry. I eat the eggs, dipping one half of my toast in and swirling it around. I eat in silence, listening to the going ons outside.

Cars, drilling, hammering….voices, laughter. It's faint for the most part, but I can still hear it. The world.

After I'm done, I make my bed. I pour a little of the water from the mug into my hands and use it to wash my face, then dry it on my sleeve.

When that's over with, I pick the spoon from the bowl and use it to carve another tally into the brick wall. I stare at it for a second. Thirty…or thirty-one? Thirty. Thirty goddamn months.

I toss the spoon back in the bowl, take up my cup, and lay back on my cot in wait.

…

The rooster crows with all it's might. He must like the sound of his crow, because he never starts the day with just one cockle-doodle-doo.

I reach over, eyes still closed, still half in a deep sleep. "Dwight," I nudge his arm, "Dwight."

"Huh?" He finally answers, also asleep.

"Go shut the window," I tell him, "The rooster's crowing."

"Okay." Dwight says, not moving an inch.

I breathe a long, tired sigh from my nose. Another three more hearty caws disturb my sleep. "Are you gonna do it?"

"Yeah." He barely verbalizes.

"D, go close the window," I sound a little whinier than I intended, "I want to sleep in."

"Alright, I'm up." He gets out of bed and treads over to the other side, my side, of the bed, shutting the window that was cracked a little for air.

His footsteps become less purposeful as the short burst of adrenaline is gone and he can now shuffle back to bed. I feel the blankets lifted off me.

"Move over."

"Is the baby in the bed?"

"Yeah." He confirms with a rasp.

I inch over a little, enough for him to be able to lie down behind me. Dwight lets go of the covers as he settles in. He puts his arm over me and sighs against my neck. The smell of sweat and bergamot soap, hits my senses.

"When did you get her?"

"Around three a.m."

"That's a new record."

"Mhm." He agrees in my ear.

"Did she called for you?"

"Yeah."

"Gets you every time."

"I don't want her to call me and then me not show up."

"Sucker." I breathe out.

Dwight lays a small kiss on my shoulder. "You're just jealous that she called for me and not you."

"She called for you, because she knew you'd cave in and come get her."

"That's why she likes me better." He retorts. "Ow!"

"Sorry." I sleepily grin, bringing my elbow back.

"That wasn't an accident." He chuckles, taking my arm and bringing me closer his way.

"Yes, it was." I giggle with him as I rotate to be face to face with him, even though our eyes are closed, "My arm slipped."

"You're arm didn't slip." He snickers, planting a sweet kiss on my mouth.

I peck him back, letting him become more long and tender with my lips. We do so for a very brief moment, resigning to get some more sleep.

That is, until the third party in our smallish bed's legs start to stir and roam. A soft, but deep exhale escapes her little lungs. At this time, both parents open our eyes, looking at one another with the same silence in thought. We just have to keep very quiet and not move a muscle.

A tiny foot rolls clockwise by the ankle and goes still. The sheets makes a faint brushing sound as the moment of stillness is broken by more adamant movement. There's a light tug of my hair from a small hand taking it up to fiddle with it. Soon, the hand lets go, only to pin my hair to the pillow in the midst of motion, while it's accomplice is placed on my arm.

"Mommy?"

I smile at Dwight, before peering over my shoulder. "Good morning!"

Birdie smiles brightly. "G'morning!"

"Did you sleep in our bed?"

She nods her head. "Yeah."

"You did?" I ask, as if I just discovered this. "How did you get here?"

Birdie points her finger towards Dwight. "Daddy."

"Daddy brought you here?"

"Yeah," She climbs over me halfway, "G'morning, Daddy."

"Morning, Birdie." Dwight greets her with a dozy smile.

"Move, please." Birdie says to me as she wedges herself in the middle.

"Oh, yeah, don't mind me." I say, scooching over, so she can lay between Dwight and I.

"Tank you." Birdie gratefully replies, not catching the sarcasm, or including the _th_ sound in her thanks.

She snuggles up next to Dwight, taking a strand of his flaxen hair. "Hello."

He snickers. "Hello."

"I'm hungry."

"Yeah?" Dwight says, "You want Mom to make to you some breakfast?"

"No, you make it."

"But it's Thursday," He tells her, "Mommy makes breakfast on Thursday, remember?"

"No, Daddy, you make it," She insists, "Please!"

Dwight inhales, rubbing his eye, before he exhales; "Alright, I'll make you breakfast."

"Yay!" She cheers.

"You gotta let me up, so I can go make it."

"Me, too."

"You wanna go with me?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't you stay with Mom in bed for a little while?" He suggests.

"No, I go with you, Dad." Birdie softly argues.

"No, Birdie, stay with me!" I put my arm around her, hugging her to me. "Keep me warm, while Daddy makes breakfast."

Birdie rolls and lets me pepper her forehead and cheek with kisses, cackling. Both Dwight and I laugh at her laugh, because it's cute.

"Are you gonna stay with me?"

She nods, still giggling. "Yeah!"

"Good," I hold her to me, looking over at Dwight with heavy eyes, "Guess you have to make breakfast."

"Wipe that smirk off your face," He smiles, sitting up, "She wants me to make it, because I'm the better cook."

I laugh, giving his arm a playful shove. "Asshole."

"Language," He smartly retorts, "How does pancakes sound?"

"Sounds good," I prop my head up in my hand, "Can you put some oats in the mix like you did last time? That was really good."

Dwight nods his head, yawning. "Okay."

"Any requests, Bird?" I look down at her.

Her eyes wander down as she thinks. "Um…good!"

"You want 'em to taste good?" I smile, humored, "She wants them to taste good, Dad, and I second the notion."

"Seeing as I'm the one making them…" He gets out of bed and walks barefoot toward the open door.

Birdie watches him go, springing up last minute. "Daddy!"

"Yeah, baby?" He turns halfway.

"I want milk, please."

He nods, shuffling out of the room.

I exhale through my nose, still tired. "You wanna take a bath before, or after breakfast?"

"Um…after."

"Okay," I yawn closing my eyes, "Sounds like a plan."

"Mommy?"

"Hm?"

"I'm wet."

I open my eyes. "You need to be changed?"

"Yeah."

I sit up. "Alright."

After I changed her, Birdie left our bed room and went to play in her room, but, like always, brought whatever she was playing with back to Dwight and I's bedroom, where I was straightening up and then to the kitchen, where Dwight was making breakfast.

Dwight has breakfast ready in an hour. He made pancakes with oats, as promised, with some eggs and hash browns. Birdie likes peaches, so he sliced one up and gave her three of the wedges, because she'll only really eat one or two, maybe two and a half. He also brewed some coffee, bringing me a cup while I was still in the bedroom, like he usually does.

I get Birdie up in her hand me down seat that sits on a regular chair, because she refuses to use her high chair as of two months ago. "You want me to scoot you closer?"

"Yeah." She answers.

"Okay," I move the chair a few inches forward, "Keep your bib on, please."

"Why come?"

"Because I don't want your jammies getting sticky."

" 'Kay." She refrains from taking off her bib.

"You ready for breakfast?" Dwight wiping his hands on a rag.

"Yeah!"

"Alright, let me just cut up your pancake."

"I can do it." I tell him, walking over to the counter.

"It's okay, I've got it," He says, "You can sit."

I kiss his scarred cheek. "You gonna make my plate, too?"

"If you want." He replies, cutting Birdie's pancake into little squares.

I chuckle, "I think I can manage."

"You sure?" He grins a little, glancing over, "I could cut your pancakes for you."

"Don't be a smartass."

"Watch your mouth," He snickers, going back to cutting, "Bird's starting to pick up bad words."

"I know," I look over at her, "I think she might be genetically predisposed to sailor mouth."

"Yeah," Dwight exhales, "I got that feeling when she thought it was funny when we were shocked the first time she said…" He glances over his shoulder, "The F-word."

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I want syrwup."

"Okay." Dwight pours the syrup over the cut up pancake bits and then takes it over to the table. He sets it down in front of her. "Here you go."

"Tank you."

"You're welcome. Use your fork, please."

"Okay, Daddy."

Dwight walks back to where I'm standing. "You gonna eat?"

I touch his back, kissing him again on the cheek. "Thanks for making breakfast on the one day I'm supposed to."

He kisses me back. "You can fix dinner."

I chuckle, pecking his lips. "Unless Birdie wants you to do it."

"Yeah." He admits to his tendency to be a pushover, before returning the kiss.

I touch his arm, smiling into the next one. "She's got you wrapped."

"I know." He smooches my lips.

"You're a good dad."

Dwight kisses my temple. "Want me to fill you up?"

"Language."

He looks down at me, starting to grin at my light laughter. "I meant your coffee, Nan. Jesus."

I snicker, planting one last kiss. "Yeah, fill me up."

"Hand me your cup."

I give it to him, before I pad over to the kitchen table, taking my seat on an end, next to Birdie. "Is it good?"

"Mhm." Birdie nods while she chews.

"Good."

…

After breakfast is done and all cleaned up, Dwight heads out to do a little hunting, or fishing if that doesn't pan out. He's also gonna make sure the dead are clear.

Initially, we wanted to build a wall, or sturdy enough fence, but ultimately decided against it. I know it sounds unwise and unsafe, but we came to the agreement that since we have such a small house in such a secluded area, it would feel confining to have huge borders around it. Plus, we just don't have the materials or man power between the two of us.

Dwight's set up a redirect, similar to the system we used back at the Sanctuary. Birdie's only ever seen a handful of walkers before, so it's been fairly effective.

I had my concerns, of course, in the beginning, but now I'm glad we didn't. It's peaceful here; we live quiet, happy lives. And we've done alright for ourselves, Dwight and I. Aside from the little things I pick up whenever I go to the Sanctuary or Alexandria, we're mostly independent.

Sure, we've had those rare months where we conserved a little more, but we've never been strapped and Birdie's never gone hungry.

Dwight built a little coop after we found some stray chickens, so we can gather the eggs every morning. He also cultivated the old garden and together we planted some tomatoes, strawberries, carrots, peas, green beans, and some other vegetables. There's also a bramble a little ways down that we collect from.

I'll admit, I'm not a green thumb like Dwight is. He said he learned from his grandfather and his mom. I planted a lemon tree, but it hasn't produced a single lemon, but the herbs I keep in the kitchen window above the sink have really flourished.

Yes, we've been quite the little busy bees these past two and half years. It's amazing how fast time flies when you're so preoccupied with all things that need to be done for the day, as well as raising a child. At the risk of sounding cliché, it seems like just yesterday that the war had ended and we had come to this place.

I'm twenty-nine now, almost thirty, but I don't feel any older, at least not physically. Mentally, I've grown out of most of the anxieties and insecurities that I had two years ago and years before that. I also feel more capable in the "new world" than I had previously and less afraid.

Maybe it's the change in environment, or because of and in spite of the old one. Or, maybe it's motherhood that's helped reshape me. I'm not really sure, because I must have been too busy learning how to make soap from some goat's milk that the Hilltop had traded to Alexandria when it happened.

I still call Birdie "the baby" even though I suppose she's technically a toddler now. She's growing up so fast; I never thought I'd be the one to say all these typical mom phrases, but it's true and it's always a little bittersweet. She's so independent and clever, it's no wonder she hit most of her milestones early.

Her preference for me ended when she was about seven months old. I don't know why, but she one day decided that Dwight was the greatest person alive and started wanting him to hold her and play with her. I was just a means of nourishment mostly after that. That obviously isn't to say that she hates being around me, but we all know who the favorite is.

"What color is the sky?"

"Um…blue!"

"That's right, good job," I praise as I spread some homemade chicken feed on the ground, "What color is…the chickens' house?"

Birdie looks at the little coop. "Um…brown!"

"Alright!"

" 'Nother one!"

"Another one?" I look around. "Um, okay. What color is our house?"

"Lellow!"

"That's right, it's yellow," I tell her, "Can you say _yellow_? _Yell-oh_?"

"Uh, Lellow!" She smiles.

"Good job."

" 'Nother one, Mommy."

"Okay." I think about what else I can give her that we haven't already done. I look over at her. "What color are my eyes?"

"Blue!"

"Good, now what color are Daddy's eyes?"

"Um…blue!"

"You're so smart," I smile at her, "What color are your eyes?"

"Um, hassel." She answers, meaning to say "hazel."

My smile softens as we approach the coop. "Good job, Birdie."

"Look!" She points at the rooster, who's perched on top of the coop.

"I know, I see him," I say, reaching into one of the little windows to pluck whatever eggs are in that nest, "Remember to approach them slowly, so they don't think you're chasing them."

"Okay," Birdie walks up to a hen, scratching at the ground, "Hi!"

The chicken remains indifferent as she pecks the ground. All the chickens are used to Birdie's friendliness and only ever get put off by it when she runs over to them. We started off with two hens and the rooster, but now we have six hens. We would have more, but we've eaten some of them.

Some of the chickens will let Birdie pet them, even hold them from time to time, but she often gets her fingers pecked when she's overstayed her welcome. I'm always leery of the rooster, since he tends to strut around the coop protectively, but he's never been bothered by her. Except for the one time she innocently pulled one of his tail feathers when she was about one.

He's a prideful little bird. All day, he crows and strolls around the yard, occasionally puffing his breast feathers and flapping his wings. He also randomly runs up on the hens, causing them to fret away.

"Alright," I say, putting the last egg of the day in my cloth-lined basket, "That's all of them."

"Berwies now?"

"Yep," I take her hand, "We're gonna go pick some berries."

…

The sun glares on the right side of my face, blinding me a little in one eye. It's not really all that hot today, but the woods feel like an oven as I trudge home after a long day with the sun in my face.

I've got my crossbow over my left shoulder, holding the strap, while carrying the line of four fish I caught in the other hand. Home's not far, I can see it a few yards away. It feels a little longer a journey, but that's only because I'm tired.

I spent all day at the redirect spot, luring dead ones in to kill them. They don't always come in right away, or in scores, but I keep myself occupied. I do it about two to three times a week and on all the other days, I stick closer to home to redirect any that manage to get close by. It's tedious and the hours sometimes drag on, but it's necessary, so I do it.

The backyard is quiet, except for one of the hens clucking as she scratches the ground for insects. Nan and Birdie must be inside. Hopefully, Nan's getting ready to start dinner, since I cooked breakfast on her day to make it.

I know she says she's more of a baker than a cooker, but I like what she makes when she cooks. It makes it bearable to eat all the fish we eat around here. Besides, it always tastes better when I don't have to make it.

Not that I mind really, I like doing it, in fact, it's something that just comes naturally. Being the one who does most of the cooking, I mean, not so much knowing how to cook. That, I had to learn when I was in high school, on nights when my mom worked late, and again after I married someone who could burn water.

"Fuck!" I flinch, stepping back as the rooster flies out of nowhere to chase me off from the coop. I don't know why the damn thing doesn't like me, but almost every time we cross paths, he's attacks me.

From the small four-squared window of the back door, I see the girls in the kitchen.

"Hey." I call as I walk through the door.

Nan, who's by the kitchen sink, looks over and smiles. "Look who's home, Bird."

Birdie peeks from under Nan's apron. "Daddy!"

"Hey, baby," I set down my bow and the fish as she runs towards me, "Did you miss me?"

"Yeah!" She giggles in my arms. "You're smelly!"

"I am smelly, I know," I put her down, "I had to carry all these fish home."

She gets on her tiptoes to look on the counter by the door. "Fiss?"

"Yeah, fish," I confirm, petting her head, "You gonna help Mom scale it and gut it?"

"Um, yeah." She answers, which is her typical answer for most things.

I snicker, "Go get your stool."

"Okay." She runs to the pantry, again standing on her toes to reach the handle.

"You know, she's just gonna end up following you, right?" Nan says, peeling potatoes skins into the sink. "And I'm gonna get to trip over her stool."

I sling the bow over my shoulder again and walk the fish over to her. "I'm gonna hop in the shower," I place the fish in the right half of the sink, "She'll help for that long at least."

"No, she's gonna say 'Ew!" and gasp a lot at my elbow."

I chuckle, "Well, then at least gutting the fish won't be boring."

She turns her head, pausing with a little smile. "Scale the fish for me."

"No, sorry, you have to do it."

"But I hate scaling and cleaning fish," Her shoulders lower, "And I've been peeling potatoes."

"You're the one cooking," I claim, smiling, "If you didn't want to do it, then you should've made breakfast like you were supposed to."

She scoffs in humored shock. "You told Birdie you'd do it, you jerk!"

"You could've vetoed it."

Nan laughs. "Well…I wanted to sleep in."

"That's what I thought." I lean over and kiss her on the lips.

"Hey, it's hard work watching after that little force of nature."

I laugh with her. "I'll see if she wants to play in the living room after my shower."

"Oh, you're gonna take her off my hands?" She pecks me.

"I figured I'd give you a break."

"Mm, well, what are you waiting for, then?" She smiles against my mouth. "Go get in the shower."

I put my bow away where Birdie can't reach it and then I take a shower. It normally takes me ten minutes or less, but I take a few extra minutes to stand under the hot stream. After that, I get dressed in fresh clothes and go back to the kitchen.

"Ew!"

I chuckle to myself as I hear Birdie exclaim from the hallway.

"I know, it's gross, but you don't need to poke it." Nan tells her calmly.

"The fiss's eye?"

"Yeah, that's the fish's eyes," She says, "Please don't touch it."

"Ew!" Birdie gasps again.

"Honey, you can't hold Mommy's arm like that."

"I helping."

"I know you're helping, but I can't cut it when you're holding my arm."

I lean my shoulder on the archway. "Hey, Bird."

Birdie looks over, immediately pointing toward the sink. "I helping, Daddy."

"I see that," I smile, before nudging my head to the side, "You wanna go play in the living room?"

"Um…" She looks at the sink again, "Yeah."

"Okay, come on."

"Wash your hands first, please," Nan turns on the sink, "She poked its eye."

I go into the kitchen. "Yeah, you better wash your hands."

" 'Kay." Birdie cups her hands, as if to catch the water running from the sink.

I lift her up and carefully tilt her over, so she can wash her hands. I glance over at the massacre in the sink. "How's it going, hon?"

"It's going," She wipes sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, "It might go faster if you take the little eye poker."

I snicker, shutting off the sink. "Alright, let's go, Bird."

"Okay."

I take her into the living room, setting her down on her feet. She hits the ground running, down the hall to her room. She comes back with two handfuls of wooden animals in her arms.

"Here." She says to me with a misplaced "w" in the word. She drops the block on the coffee table, before padding back down the hall. She returns with the rest of them. "Here, Dad."

"Thank you." I set 'em all up straight and in a line as she sits in my lap.

They're blocks I made for her one by one. It started with the duck, which I carved months before she was even born and then I added a new animal every month for the first year of her life. I've made other little toys for her, like one of those caterpillar things that's on wheels that you pull along, as well as some numbers and letters, but these are by far her favorites.

"Okay…" I pick up one of the blocks, "What does a cow say?"

"Moooo!" She imitates.

"Good job!" I laugh, holding up my closed hand, "Pound it."

She makes a little fist and bumps my knuckles with hers.

"Good job," I repeat, before getting a new block, "What does the duck say?"

She purses out her lips. "Quack, quack!"

I try not to laugh at her impressions, but there so cute and funny. "That's good!"

Birdie puts her fist up. "Poun' it."

I bump her fist. "Okay, what does the…chicken say?"

"Bawk, bawk." She tucks her hand under her pits and flaps her wings.

"Good," I put the chicken down, "What does the rooster say?"

Birdie goes to respond, but her eyes trail up to think about it. "Um…."

I didn't make a rooster block, so I point towards the window. "What does the rooster say every morning?"

"Roo-raroo-roo-roo!" She crows to the ceiling.

At that, both I and Nan in the kitchen laugh.

"What was that?" Nan bends back to look at us.

"Rooser!" Birdie tell her.

"A rooster?" She chuckles. "If you say so."

"Poun' it, Daddy."

"Okay, pound it," I pick up another block, "What does the horse say?"

She whinnies, "Nee-hee-hee!" And it's hysterical.

"Great horse, baby."

Birdie puts her fist up and I oblige.

Nan walks in after a few minutes, tossing the apron to the side. "I've got it in the pan now. It'll be a few minutes."

"Shouldn't you watch it?" I ask her, hearing the sizzling from the kitchen.

"I'm watching it," She assure me as she kneels down at the table, "I just want to get out of the heat for a minute."

"Here." Birdie hands her a block shaped like a sheep.

"Oh, what is this?" Nan accepts it. "What animal is this?"

"A wamb."

"It's a lamb?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, and what does a lamb say?"

"Baaa!"

Nan smiles warmly as she stifles a laugh. "That's right, the lamb says; 'Baa!'"

Birdie giggles at Nan joining in. "Here."

"What animal is this?"

"Um…a pig."

"What's a pig say?"

Birdie scrunches up her face and snorts twice. We laugh.

"Good job!"

"Do it, Mom."

"You want me to make the pig sound?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Nan makes almost the same face as Birdie and snorts, which causes Birdie to cackle loudly. She'd almost tip over, if my arm wasn't around her.

"Was that funny?"

"Yeah!" Birdie continues to laugh. She holds up her fist to her mom. "Poun' it."

Nan smiles, reaching across the table. "Pound it."

Birdie takes up another block. "Here."

"What's this one?" Nan asks her.

"Dog." Birdie answers.

"And the dog goes…?"

"Bark, Bark!" Birdie yaps.

"Good girl," Nan grabs a block and holds it up, "What's this one?"

"Fish." I say, looking towards the kitchen.

She sighs, disappointed. "D, let her answer."

"No, Nan, the fish." I point over to the little cloud of smoke.

She turns her head. "Oh!" She springs up and runs into the kitchen, "I'll take the burnt piece!"

She does take the burnt piece, which is just a little extra crispy on the side. Sometimes, she can convince me to take whatever she's accidentally burned, but she likes fish a little charred when it's breaded.

After dinner, we play with Birdie some more after we clean up the kitchen until her bedtime. She's pretty active during the day, so we never have a problem getting her to go to bed. She likes it when Nan rocks her in the rocking chair and sings to her. Most nights, she hands one of us a book and wants it read to her, before she agrees to be rocked.

While Nan does that, I lay on our bed, trying to read _All's Quiet on the Western Front_. It's not that I don't like reading, I just always think about doing it at night, when my eyes don't want to pay attention. Like right now, I'm going line per line, but I don't know what I'm reading.

"Whatcha reading?"

"I don't know." I mumble, staring at the page with a furrow.

"Birdie's asleep." Nan informs me, treading to our bathroom and flicking on the light.

"She went down quick tonight."

"Yeah," Her voice echoes off the tile, "Let's hope she sleeps through the night."

"Yeah." I mildly agree.

Birdie wakes up almost every night and when she does, she'll call for one of us, or cry as a last resort, until we wake up, or cave and go get her. Nan tries to be more stern about Birdie going back to sleep in her room, even taking the time to rock and sing to her again, no matter how tired she is.

I, on the other hand, just bring her back to bed with me and let her lie between Nan and I. Nan's techniques don't work for me; hard as I try, I can never get Birdie down the way she can. It's always been that way.

So, I put her in bed with us, which is difficult some nights, because Birdie likes to lay right next you and so it makes it hard to move around in bed.

"You're not gonna get her tonight, right?" Nan inquires, brushing her teeth.

"No." I say too low for her to hear me.

The sink turns off. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, I heard you."

She looks me over from the doorway of the bathroom. "So, you're not gonna go get her, if she wakes up?"

"No." I go back to my book.

Nan laughs as she saunters over to our dresser. "Why do I get the feeling that's not true?"

"I intend on it to be true." My eyes lose focus as they peer up over the book and at her.

She pulls her shirt over her head, still humored. "You spoil her."

"I do not."

"You do too," She smiles back at me as she unhooks her bra, "You know, you're the one who said we needed to be more stern about her sleeping in her own bed."

"I know," I sigh, looking at the pages, "Maybe we'll get better at it when she's a little older."

"We? You got a mouse in your pocket?"

"Alright, smartass, _I'll_ get better at it."

"That's more like it." Nan comes over to the bed, my side.

She lifts her leg over, gently straddling me. I look up at her shyish smile. She's in her underwear and of my t-shirts that I don't wear anymore, because she keeps taking it. She's got some faint dark circles under her eyes, but the lamplight makes her face warm and soft. I set down the book; she's beautiful.

Nan reaches over and puts her hand on my scarred face. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I say to her, meaning every word.

"I meant it when I said you're a good dad."

"I know."

Her thumbs caresses the mangled over skin as she stares in my eyes. She then comes my way and kisses my lips. "I love you, Dwight."

"I love you." I repeat.

She sighs, content, as she sits up. "Do you want to have sex?"

I nod my head, putting my hand on her elbow. "Yeah."

"Okay." Nan pulls the string undone on my pajama pants as I shift underneath her.

I move out from under her and she climbs over to her side of the bed, diagonal. I crawl over her, getting between her legs. I stare down at her and she up at me. She's beautiful.

…

I open my eyes. The key sinks into the lock, draws out the bolt, and is pulled out. The door makes that creaking sound as it opens. The light from the window shines low on the wall and telling from the yellowish hue, I'd guess it's supper time. Hell, I know it's supper time; food comes three times a day.

"Wake up." Rick rudely demands as he strides over to the bars with a tray in his hand.

"I wasn't sleeping," I say to him, sitting up in my cot, "In fact, I'm wide awake, so we can chat."

"Eat."

I watch the tray of dinner get carelessly placed on the ground on my side, "Let's talk about this awesome, better world you're building up there."

Rick looks down on me. "Eat."

"Oh, come one," I egg, "You think I don't have ears? I hear all the tinkering going on, day in and day out."

Rick gets a look at me for a minute. He then turns around to get the chair that usually sits in the far left corner.

"Oh, goody," I reach for my tray, "Dinner and a story."

Dinner's always the same thing, too. Cornbread, sometimes brown bread with lumpy, artificial mash potatoes mixed with some type of ground up sausage and vegetable. I'd complain, but it's the best meal of the day.

I stir the meat and carrots into the potatoes. "It's been awhile since you sat down to talk. Why? Are things not going according to plan?"

Rick plants it in the chair, giving the look again, except it's cockier. "No, everything's running smoothly."

"Huh," I nod my head, "No problems?"

"No problems."

I nod again. "Well, isn't that nice?"

Rick smirks, presumably thinking that what I said was out of bitterness. "A long time has passed since the war."

"Not that long."

"Over two years," He informs me of what I already know, "Almost three. We've come a long way from where we were."

"Have you?"

"We have," Rick says confidently, "We've stopped fighting each other to survive. We build, we grow. We're facing the world, learning to deal with its terms and our own."

"Sounds grand." I reply dryly.

"It is grand," He confirms, "We're making something that's gonna be bigger than all of us."

I scoff, skeptical.

"Carl's vision is coming to life."

I look up, getting a sad grip in me that I haven't learned to settle yet.

"And your part of it still," Rick claims, "You are still an example; a symbol of progress."

"You gonna erect a statue of me?" I sarcastically inquire. "Put a bronze plaque outside that door?"

He breathes deeply, still smirking. "No, because it's not about you, none of this is about you, or for you. It's about us, it's for our children. One day, it'll all be like it was before, or close to it. Better."

I scoff again. "Let me know when that day comes."

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be the first to know."

"Good," I retort, setting the spoon down, "And do me favor, Rick."

"What?" He arrogantly indulges.

I look him straight in the eye through the shadows. "The day it all goes wrong, the day when tensions rise and all hell breaks loose and you realize that you were in way over your head? Be sure to tell me about that day, too."

Rick exhales, partially amused. He gets up from the chair and picks it up by the back. "Yeah, I'll be sure to do that."

"Aw, leaving so soon?" I glance back down at my tray. "I was gonna ask you to braid my hair."

He scoffs, but doesn't say anything to my smart aleck comment. He just walks towards the steps, fishing the keys from his pocket.

"I'll be back to get your tray in an hour."

"Tomorrow's the second, right?" I scoop up some of the gruel, "Second of the May? June? Whatever."

Rick doesn't answer.

"My baby's gonna be two and a half tomorrow."

At that, he stops, one foot on the first stair. He turns his head over his shoulder. "She's not a baby."

My eyes move up from my dinner. "Pardon?"

"Your...daughter?" Rick clarifies with a bad taste in his mouth. "She's not a baby anymore."

I stare, affronted. What the fuck is he talking about?

"She's nearly three," He tells me, "I saw her the last time she was here."

My brows gather. "She was here?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"The last time her mother came into Alexandria."

"Nan? When was she here last?"

"About two weeks ago."

What?

Rick moves his head forward, but lowers it, as if looking at the step. "She's grown a lot since you last saw her."

My mind goes quiet and I peer back at him.

"Like I said, it's been a long time since the war," He adds in a flat tone, "You're missing out on a whole of lot more than just the world." Rick starts up the stairs.

The door slams shut. The key goes in, the bolt thuds, and the key goes out again. The sound of the keys jangling disappears.

My eyes blink down from that direction that I can't even see anymore. They adjust to the dark and find the food in the tray in my lap. I set the tray down on the floor and lay back in my bed.

* * *

 **Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of the "Save Yourself" sequel! Thanks for reading!**

 **If you've read the SY, then you'll know that my updates for this fic will either be two to three weeks out, depending on my availability.**


	2. Chapter 2

The crickets chirp outside our window in the cool dark. I like hearing them, they don't bother me at all when I go to sleep, in fact, I think they're becoming like a white noise that I can't sleep without. Dwight doesn't mind them either, only when one manages to sneak into the house and trills louder than the ones outside, because then he has to try to find and catch it to put it back out.

He says its bad luck to kill crickets, something his grandfather told him when he was young, and now something that Birdie takes very seriously. I'm sure she doesn't quite understand what luck is, but she heard Dwight say; "We don't kill crickets, because it's bad luck" and it was enough for her to not want cricket, or any bugs now for that matter, squashed.

I smile, almost laughing against Dwight's bare, warm chest.

His hand lightly moves some loose hair up, letting it cascade from his fingertips. "Why are you smiling?"

"I was just thinking about Birdie calling that cricket you let go the other night a 'cute little fella'."

"Oh," He nods, letting out a slight chuckle, "Yeah, that was cute."

I sigh against him. "You want me to move?"

"I don't mind."

"It won't get too hot?"

"Nah," Dwight rasps, still fiddling with my hair, "I like it."

"You like me laying against you like this?"

"Yeah." He simply replies.

"Why?"

"I don't know, I just do."

I chuckle a little. "Does it make you feel manly?"

Dwight snickers under me. "What?"

I stick my chin on him, so I can look at him. "Having me wrap my arms around you like this," I tease, touching the other side of his torso where my arm's outreached, "Laying against you all love drunk after sex?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" He chuckles.

"Don't you just feel all prideful and virile and masculine?" I laugh quietly. "That you satisfied your woman?"

Dwight rolls my way, pecking my lips. "Were you satisfied?"

I snicker as I put my arms around him. "Very."

He places his mouth on my neck. "Thanks for the feedback."

"Dwight!" I shriek, giggling and jumping at the tickle from his beard as well as his hand snaking between my thighs.

He laughs, kissing me on the mouth and relocating the hand to my cheek. I touch his arm, smiling into the next kiss.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." I beam, meeting his soft gaze with mine.

Dwight tucks some hair behind my ear. "We should probably put our clothes back on, just in case Birdie wakes up later."

"Or…you could stay strong and not bring her back here when she does."

His smile tips up at my laughter. "I can't get her to sleep like you can."

"It's not that hard, D, really."

"Well, I don't want her to cry."

I roll my eyes, smiling. "She doesn't cry when I go in there. I just put her back to sleep."

"Yeah, but like I said, I can't make her go back to sleep like you."

"And like _I_ said, it's not hard," I brush his hair back, "You just have to bounce, or rock her. Pat her a little and sing a song."

"I don't know any songs." He says.

I snort, "What do you mean you don't know any songs? We listen to music all the time."

"I know, but I never remember the lyrics," Dwight replies, "At least not enough to sing 'em."

"Wow, you do have a shitty memory."

He smiles wide into a soft laugh. "Shut up."

I laugh, even as he plants his mouth on mine. "I guess we better get dressed then, huh? If she's gonna wind up in here on account of you not being able to sing her to sleep."

"When did you get to be such a smart ass?" He chuckles. "I don't remember you being this mouthy when I met you."

"Of course, you wouldn't; you've got a bad memory," I retort, making him cackle, "For all you know, I was a regular…" I almost say his name, but I catch myself, "Clown."

Dwight's eyes move over me and his smile dwindles as he realizes what I didn't say. He scoffs, humored, shrugging it off. "Yeah, I don't know about that."

I snicker, tired, before I sigh. "Well…I only joke around with people I like, so I guess you know that I like you."

He chuckles below his breath, also sleepy. "Good to know."

I inch my body closer to his, burying my face in his shoulder. He puts his arms around me, holding me and kissing the top of my head, before resting his chin over me as he lets out an exhale. I close my eyes, but after a few minutes I open them again, thinking, and listening to the crickets.

…

"Mommy, I'm hungry."

"I know you are, honey, and I'm almost done." I cut her peanut butter and jelly sandwich into four triangles. "Go sit down at the table, please."

"Okay." Birdie jogs over to the table, climbing up on the chair with her seat.

I put her sandwich on a plate and then add some apple slices, before walking it over. "Here, baby."

"Tank you."

"You're welcome." I go back to the sink to wash my hands.

While there, I water my herbs and peer out the window at the movement. It's only Dwight, coming this way towards the back door. I turn my head when he's out of sight.

The door opens. "Hey."

"Hey." He says back, shutting the kitchen door behind.

"Daddy!" Birdie calls, raising her bitten sandwich slice like she's raising a toast.

"Hey, Bird."

"You're back early."

"Yeah, I think I steered a lot of the dead in the area off yesterday," He comes over to the sink to wash his hands, "I only drew in five or so all morning."

I nod, "Maybe we should think of some barriers to put out around the perimeter. You know, far enough where we won't have to worry about Birdie getting hurt, but that way you won't have to go all the way out everyday to redirect."

"Yeah, maybe," Dwight dries his hands on a towel, "The only issue with that is that we don't have the materials."

"They use wood at Alexandria," I tell him, "Logs with pointed ends sticking out all around."

He looks up in thought. "That might take awhile to do for us. A couple weeks, depending on how many we'd need."

"Yeah…" I sigh.

"But it's worth considering," He adds, walking to the stove, "We've never really had problems with them being too close to the house, but I guess it's better to be prepared, just in case."

I can't help to glance over at Birdie, smiling at her when she makes eye contact while eating. "Is it good?"

"Yeah."

"You want some water, or milk?"

"Water."

"You got it," I turn towards the cupboard, listening to the clicking of the stove trying to light, "I can make us lunch, if you want."

"I've got it," Dwight replies, going to the fridge, "You want a BLT?"

"You read my mind." I pad over to the table with a sippy cup of water, sitting down next to Birdie.

"Here." Birdie extends an apple slice my way.

"For me?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, thank you," I lean over and take a bite of the sweet yellow apple, "Delicious."

"Here, Daddy." She offers.

"Just a second, baby." Dwight tells her, sticking two slices of bread in the toaster, and then coming over. Birdie feeds him the other half of what I bit. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Birdie says, sinking her little teeth into her sandwich.

I smile, resting my chin on te top of my hand. In this light, it's clear to see that her strawberry blonde hair is darker than it was a year ago. I knew it would likely happen; my hair was the same color as hers when I was little, but it took years for it to change into the light, warm, coppery brown that is now. Hers is still a sweet hue, but I think it may grow more cooler toned than mine. But maybe not.

Her eyes are still that dark hazel like her father's. It's strange; sometimes they almost seem as magnetic, because sometimes when Birdie looks at me, sometimes in no peculiar way, my focus gets drawn in by her eyes and how uncannily familiar they are.

"Dammit!"

I turn my head. "What's wrong?"

Dwight puts his finger up to his mouth, before shaking his hand out. "Nothing, I just burned my finger getting the toast out."

"You okay?" I get up from my chair.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

I take up his hand and delicately inspect it. There's a tender red line right across the finger print. "Ouch."

"It's no big deal."

"Want me to get the first aid kit?"

He slides his hand from mine. "Nah, I'll just run it under the tap."

"You should put some burn ointment on it."

"It's fine, honey, really," Dwight moves around me to go to the sink, "It's just a little burn. Probably won't even leave a mark."

"Okay." I pick up the toast he hastily dropped on the counter and place it on the plate by the toaster.

"Daddy got hurt?" Birdie inquires to either of us.

"No, I'm okay, Bird."

"What happen?" She asks.

"Daddy got a little a boo-boo." I answer, brushing her hair back as I sit back down.

"A boo-boo?"

"Yeah."

"Aw, poor Daddy."

I chuckle. "Poor Daddy."

"I kiss it."

"You wanna kiss Daddy's boo-boo?"

"Yeah, I kiss it better."

Dwight kisses the top of her head. "I'm okay."

"I kiss it, Daddy."

"Okay." Dwight puts out his finger and Birdie takes hold of it and gives it a sweet peck.

"All better?"

"Yes, it feels much better, Bird," Dwight walks back to the counter, "Thank you."

I smile at her. "You gonna take a nap after you eat?"

"Um, yeah."

"In your bed?"

She shakes her head. "No."

"On the couch?"

"No, I nap with you, Mom."

"I don't think I'm gonna nap today, baby."

"Yeah!" She insists with a small whine.

"You can nap without me."

"I might lie down for a bit after I eat," Dwight says laying some bacon strips on a hot pan, "She can lie down with me, if she wants."

"You want to take a nap with Dad?"

"Um…yeah."

"Okay."

Birdie's sandwich drops out her hand, likely from her twisting her wrist this way and that way as she chews. She looks down on the floor. Before I can say 'uh-oh', she says, "Dammit!"

I inhale through my nose and it sounds like a gasp. I then look over the other way at Dwight, who's already glancing over his shoulder. His eyes move from Birdie to me, knowing that was on him.

…

After lunch, Dwight and Birdie go back to our bedroom to lie down. I hear frivolous conversation between the two as I clean up around the kitchen, mostly Birdie just stalling to take a nap. After about fifteen, twenty minutes, Dwight tells her that it's time to stop talking and go to sleep. We have to sometimes tell her that when it's nap or bedtime. She's super chatty.

I am a little tired, but I told myself I wouldn't nap today. I wanted to make some shortbread for after dinner and as much as love my daughter, it's sometimes nice to bake when she's not in the kitchen helping.

Plus, it might be a nervous mom thing, but I don't like it when she wants to watch as I take things out of the oven. She wants to stand right on the side and I'm just worried she's going to get burned.

I do love that she's so eager to help though. It's sweet. A few months ago, the kitchen sink started leaking and she sat by the toolbox, wanting to hand Dwight the tools that he needed. He only needed the wrench and it took her a few tries to hand him the right one, but he was patient and let her go through almost the entire toolbox before she finally picked up the wrench. She opened and closed the cupboard opposite to the one Dwight was half inside, asking if he needed another tool every minute or so. I got a picture of it.

I would have recorded it on the camcorder we have, but we don't have a lot of storage, so we only use it for special moments, like the first time she crawled, or took her first steps and her first birthday. We've got her first word, which was "mama" surprisingly. We for sure thought it was going to be "dada" because she's such a daddy's girl, but the word or syllables just came out of her mouth one night when we were playing with her on our bed.

I lifted her above me, making her laugh, and prompting her to say "mama", repeating the word playfully as I touched my nose to hers, before lifting her up again and again. Next thing we know, she's parroted me. I remember how both Dwight and I fell silent in unison, looking over at each other, as if to see if the other had heard what we thought we heard. We were over the moon excited when she repeated it.

There's another recording on the camera, one we didn't do and one I'm not sure Dwight's seen, but I've kept it on there. If he has seen it, he hasn't said anything.

It plays in my head as I roll the dough. I've only watched it twice. Once when I first turned on the camera and realized there was something on it and then again about a week after Birdie's first birthday, after I had come home from "going into town".

I was going to delete it then, but I couldn't bring myself to push the button when the small square screen asked me if I was sure I wanted to delete it from memory. I thought about Birdie and decided it wasn't right to erase what she perhaps has a right to see someday.

I don't know how I'm going to go about that day when it comes. I don't feel it's a matter of if, only a matter of when. It terrifies me, even though I know it's a long way out from now.

I take a deep breath, rolling the dough with some elbow grease. I know why I'm thinking about it, but I need to stop.

Footsteps shuffling in, turns my attention. "Hey."

"Hey," Dwight inhales, moving the hair from his face, "What are you doing?"

"Baking," I answer, "I thought you were gonna sleep for bit?"

"I was gonna, but I guess I'm not as tired as I thought," He approaches the floured counter, "What are you making?"

"Shortbread."

"Oh," He nods his head, "I'm gonna go fix that hinge on the coop door. It looks like it needs to be screwed in a little tighter."

"Okay, watch out for the rooster."

Dwight gets his toolbox from the garage and goes out back to the chicken coop. Once the shortbread goes into the oven, I wash my hands in the sink, looking out the window to where I can see him.

He's a good man. A good, supportive partner to me and a kind, caring father to Birdie. There's really nothing more I can ask of Dwight that he doesn't already possess in his personality. I'm not saying he's perfect, no one is, but he's someone that I love and trust with all that I have in my being.

Sylvie use to say that good men can't be found, hence why she was a lesbian. We'd laugh at that punchline, but I found a good man in Charlie and I've lucked out again with Dwight.

I set the timer for the shortbread and carry it with me to the back. Dwight's swinging the door left to right, testing the hinge, before he sticks his screwdriver back into one screw.

"How's it going?"

He looks back me for a second. "Fine, I'm just trying to stop the creaking now."

"It's only a little creak."

"Its annoying when the wind blows it open at night."

I briefly examine the door from where I stand. "Maybe we should put a more secure latch to closed it."

"Yeah, maybe. I might just have to spray some lube on it."

I notice the rooster on the top of the coop. "Did he give you any trouble?"

"Who?" Dwight glances back, following my gaze. "Oh, a little bit. Now he's just up there watching me."

I snicker, petting Dwight's head. "Don't ruffle any feathers."

"Maybe he stopped liking me after the first time we ate one of the hens."

"D, he never liked you," I peer up at the vigilant rooster, "He's just watching over his roost."

"He never goes after you," Dwight stands up, wiping sweat off his brow, "And you're the one who takes the eggs."

I shrug. "Maybe it's a guy thing."

He scoffs. "Yeah, right."

I chuckle, touching his arm affectionately. "Don't take it to heart, honey."

Dwight looks over his work. "Let's go back inside. It's hot out."

"Okay." I go with him as he turns.

"When do you think you'll go back into town?"

I loop my arm in his. "Um, I don't know. Why?"

"We're running low on feed," He says, "We're gonna need some more corn from the Sanctuary."

"Oh," I nod, "Well…how much do we have?"

"A week's worth."

"Okay…"

Dwight opens the door to the kitchen, glancing down at me. "What's the matter?"'

"Nothing's the matter." I answer, going back inside.

"Oh," He closes the door behind him, "You just sound like you'd rather get a root canal."

I smile as I check my timer. "No, I can go, if you want."

"…Well, do you want to go?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I can."

"That doesn't answer my question."

I shrug again. "If we need some more corn for feed, then I'll go."

Dwight goes to the sink to fill a glass. "I don't want you to go, if you don't want to, Nan. We can figure something else out for 'em."

"What else?" I look at him.

"We've got some lentils…and oats."

"We use the oats," I remind him, "And we're out of lentils."

"Since when?"

"Since last month when I took inventory."

"Huh," Dwight takes a sip from his water, "I thought we'd never run out of those. Good riddance."

I chuckle, setting the timer on the counter. "So, I guess I have to go then?"

He puts his glass down. "It has been awhile."

"Not that long."

"A little over a month."

I exhale. "I know, and I know I should probably go, but it's just a long drive and it's hard on Birdie and- "

"I'll keep Birdie."

I look at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I bite my lip. "Okay."

Dwight looks me over. "We do need a few things."

"Yeah." I nod my head, startled by the timer going off.

…

The moon's shining bright enough through the window to make this shithole seem less pitch black. The crickets are making noise right outside. One more conversation I'm left out of.

It's a fair night. There's a slight breeze that finds its way down here from under the door, but I'm not complaining, since I know it's gonna get hotter than hell once summer kicks in.

I lay my blanket over my legs, looking up at the moon outside, since that's all there is to see. I'm not really all that tired. I sit in a goddamn cell all day, there's nothing to do except sleep and rub one out while I'm waiting for my next meal. Not that I jerk off a lot down here; I haven't really been much in the mood lately.

I reach down for my pathetic tin cup of water. I drink down what's left and then toss it across the cell. I didn't eat the shit they brought about four hours ago, so the water will have to hold me over 'til morning. I was hungry, but I couldn't eat. I got myself to thinking about my daughter again and it put me off my appetite.

I stick two of my fingers into my shirt pocket and pluck out the picture I have of her. The only picture I have of her. She's two months old here, according to her mother's handwriting at the bottom. Her eyes are bright, and she's got cute little dimples. The caption reads, "First smile."

She's the most beautiful little thing I've ever laid eyes on. Those eyes and that smile are all mine…but she's got her mother's nose. Goddamn. She's beautiful like her mother.

I tuck the photo back into my pocket. I want to see her. I need to see her.

…

"Daddy!" Birdie calls from down the hall. "Daddy!"

Nan stirs in the bed, breathing in as she starts to wake up.

"Daddy!"

"D," Nan murmurs, "Birdie's awake."

I move, rubbing my eye as I inhale. "Yeah, I hear her."

"Daddy!"

"You want me to go?" Nan asks me.

"No, I got it." I say, half-asleep.

"Daddy!" Birdie continues to call for me from her room. "Daddy!"

I push myself out of bed. "Okay."

I drag my feet a little as I go down the hall, trying not to bump the wall as I head to Birdie's room.

"Daddy!"

"I'm right here, Bird," I go into her room, "What's wrong? Did you wake up?"

"I need to potty." She tells me, sitting in her bed.

"You need to use the potty?" I yawn, nodding. "Okay, let's go."

Birdie slides herself out of bed backwards on her belly, before trotting over to me and taking my hand. I take her to the bathroom across the hall.

She's potty-trained, but she wears a cloth diaper at night in case she doesn't wake up in time. I help get it off and then put her on the toilet. I'm gonna have to make a stool for her, so she can get up on her own.

"Turn 'round." She tells me, shooing me with her hand.

"I am turned around." I say, already facing the towel rack.

"The lights, Daddy."

I step to the side and flick on the lights. "There, now go potty."

"Okay." A little stream hits the water for a couple seconds. "Done!"

"Did you clean up?"

I hear the reeling of the toilet paper roll. "Done!"

"Alright." I turn back around. I put her diaper back on and let her pull up her pajama pants herself.

"Up!" Birdie extends her arms.

I pick her up, since she's scared of the toilet flushing at night. "Let's wash your hands."

After she washes her hands in the sink and dries them off on the towel on the rack, I put her down to walk her back to bed. She starts to tug me in the direction of Nan and I's room. I start to follow her, but I stop myself.

"C'mon, Daddy."

"Actually, honey, why don't we go back to your room?"

Birdie pouts, slumping her shoulders. "No, Daddy."

"Yeah, Bird," I encourage her to follow me, "Let's try to go back to bed in your bed."

"No, Daddy, I sleep with you and Mommy!"

"I think you should sleep in your room." I try to sway her.

Birdie's eyes appear shiny as the tears begin. "No, Daddy."

I exhale, "Alright, let's try for a minute and if you don't go to sleep, we'll go to my room, okay?"

"Okay." She agrees, surprisingly.

"Okay."

I sit in the rocking chair with her in my lap. "You wanna read a story, or…"

"Sing, Dad."

"You want me to sing?"

"Yeah, sing."

I nod my head as we rock steadily in the chair. "Okay…what song would you like?"

"Um…" Birdie thinks for second before shrugging, "Don't know."

"Oh, you want me to pick one?"

"Yeah." She settles her head against my shoulder.

"Okay." I pick my brain for a song I can think of….

I really can't remember any songs. I know the tune, but I can't ever remember the words. I don't know if it's because I don't pay attention, or what, but I can never seem to get anything like that to stick. My memory used to be really bad, but the last couple years have been hard to forget. Songs, though…nope, nothing.

"Sh," I set Birdie down our bed, "Don't wake, Mommy."

Birdie crawls towards the middle. "Night, Mommy." She whispers in Nan's ear, kissing her cheek.

"Birdie, what did I say?"

Nan rolls over with knitted brows. "Birdie?"

"Hi, Mommy."

Nan brings Birdie close in her arms with her eyes closed. "Are you sleeping in here again?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" She smiles, "You gonna go to sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Mhm," Nan kisses her, "You don't need to be rocked?"

"Um….yeah."

"Yeah, you don't need to be rocked, or yeah, you do need to?"

"Yeah."

Nan snickers. "Do you want to be rocked?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Nan loosens up her hold, but only so she can sit up some and Birdie can settle in her arms.

I lay back in bed, looking over as Nan gently eases our daughter back to sleep, patting her like she always has.

"Sing, Mommy."

"You want me to sing you a song?" Nan whispers.

"Yeah."

"We have to be quiet, baby. Daddy's trying to sleep."

"It's okay, you can sing to her." I say.

"Okay, Daddy," Nan exhales, kissing Birdie again, "What shall I sing, Birdie?"

"A song."

Nan sleepily chuckles. "Okay, a song."

She's quiet for a few seconds, before she starts to hum, faintly drowning out the crickets.

" _Stay awake, don't rest your head_

 _Don't lie down about upon your bed…"_

She continues to sing to Birdie as I lay and listen. I like this one, when she sings it that is. I don't actually know where it's from, but I know she said it was from somewhere at one time. A movie?

Anyway, Birdie likes it, too. Sometimes when Nan's spell- like lullaby doesn't takes it's effect right away, Birdie will drowsily ask her to sing it again. I don't know if it's Nan's soft voice, or the soothing melody she makes with it, but it does make your eyes heavy.

" _You're not as sleepy as you seem,_

 _Stay awake, don't nod and dream,_

 _Stay awake, don't nod and dream."_

Nan tilts her head. "Is she asleep?"

I open my eyes and peer over at the two. "Yeah, she's out."

She inches herself and Birdie down into a lying position, carefully turning so she can place Birdie in the middle while still holding her. She gently kisses her forehead, furrowing her brows a little.

"She's a little warm."

"Maybe it's from holding her so close?"

"Hm, maybe," Nan feels Birdie's forehead with her fingers, "Feel her forehead and tell me if you think she's warm."

I lift my hand, but because my hands were already warm, it's hard to tell. "Um, I'm not sure…. maybe."

Nan kisses her again, petting her head. "I'll take her temp in the morning."

"Okay."

She looks at me in the dark and demurely smiles. "What?"

"Nothing." I rasp, smiling back.

Nan rolls her sleepy eyes, before closing them. "Okay."

"Night."

"Night."

I shut my eyes, but I don't go to sleep right away. I never do; it's not that easy, but at least I can sleep. She made that possible. It's not easy to get to sleep, but it's easy to sleep with her beside me.

She's a good mom. That's what I think as I lay with my eyes closed, listening to the crickets, trying to nod off. Nan is so in love with our daughter, I don't think there's anyone half as important to her than Birdie. Not even me, which I would never want to compete with.

I love Nan, but I think I feel the same way. The day Nan gave birth to Birdie, I loved Nan more than I ever had before, but at the same time, I knew I loved nothing and no one like I loved Birdie the moment I laid eyes on her. Maybe that's what being a parent entails; your kid eclipses everyone else, even someone you know you love deeply and that you'd give your life for. I wonder if it's even possible to love more than one kid that way. I mean, how could you? It seems impossible.

…

"What's this?"

I look up at him. "What's what?"

Rick nudges his foot at the tray. "This?"

"Oh," I croak, "That is a sandwich. Or a sorry excuse for one."

"It's whole," He points out the obvious, "You didn't eat it."

"Nope, I didn't." I run my hand through my beard that's getting long as hell. "I'm not hungry."

"Why is that?" Rick sits down in the chair like the cocky asshole that he is. "Is it all finally sinking in?"

"Is what sinking in?"

"Reality," Rick clarifies, "That you're gonna die in here."

I look him in the eye. "Why are you here? It's not to ask why I didn't eat my sandwich."

He scoffs, but nods slowly. "No, you're right; I didn't come here because of that."

"So, then spare me the dramatic pause and tell me why you're here. Oh, and while you're at it, why don't you get me some more wa-"

"Don't you ever get tired of pretending like you're in charge?"

"Do you?" I retort.

Rick huffs.

"You think just because you got everyone working together that means you got it all on lock?"

"We're building a bridge," He informs me, "It's gonna bring us all closer together. Close the gap between the communities."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, it is," He nods his head, "A lot of Saviors volunteered to work on it. They make up half the workforce out there."

"Well, good for you, Rick," I wryly say, "You got my people playing with toothpicks and glue."

"They're not your people anymore," He replies, "They're their own people. Surviving without you."

"For now, until shit goes south."

"I don't think you get it," Rick leans forward, "They don't want you back. They know they're better off without you. Better off working with people instead of trampling over them."

I scoff. "You don't know my people like I do."

"No, I don't think you know your people like you think you do," He argues back, "See, they only followed you because you exploited their needs and got a kick out of making them afraid of you. Now that you're here, they know there's another way and it's better."

"Until it isn't."

"Anyway is better than your way, Negan."

"Don't be so sure."

Rick looks to the side, chuckling in disbelief below his breath at my insolence. His eyes seem to monitor the light. "I won't lie to you; today was a hard day. We lost someone, another guy lost his arm…tensions got heated and some people walked off…but at the end of the day, when I thought things were starting to fray, the people that stayed were all together. Sitting by the fire together and laughing together."

I roll my eyes at his campy tale.

"That's when I knew that it's all gonna work out in the end," He goes on, "That no matter what, we're all gone end up together. This bridge is gonna bring us all together."

"Oh, please," I reply, doubtful, "You aren't doing this for togetherness, or whatever shit spun yarn you're trying to weave."

He looks back at me.

"You're doing it for Carl," I bluntly tell him, "You aren't doing it for the living, you're building a monument for the dead."

" _You_ ," Rick shoots the word at me like a bullet, "Don't speak his name. You don't get to talk about him."

"I think your little stories about weenie roasts and campfire songs is a load of crap," I clear my dry throat, "And that everything's gonna fall apart and you won't be able to stop it. And when that happens, well, the world's gonna need someone who can whip it back into shape and the someone sure as shit won't be you."

He stares incredulously. "You- "

"Your family's gone, Rick," I cut him off, swallowing, "Same as mine. That bridge…it's not the future and you know it. It's just a thing you want so badly to happen, because it'll make you feel like you haven't failed the person you already failed."

Rick goes quiet, staring.

"You couldn't save Carl and you can't save the world," I finish, looking at him through the bars, "The only thing you're doing is getting it ready for me."

He gazes at me for a few moments, looking almost as if I stunned him. But he finally stands, walking over to the tray on the floor and picking it up. He then turns and heads towards the stairs with his tail between his legs.

"I'll be back in the morning with breakfast." Rick says over his shoulder, right at the stairs.

I glance at him and he glances back.

"If you want, you can bark some more at me then," He says, staring me right in the eyes, undaunted, "That's all you got, isn't it? Now that we've clipped you?" Rick scoffs, heading up the stairs. "All bark and no bite."

I watch him go up the stairs, until the light from the door is cut off. The key goes in, turns, then pulls out.

I sit here in the dark, alone. I breathe in, feeling a fault as I do. Breathing out feels even harder. I sit here in the dark, exactly as he described. Alone.

…

This morning, I took Birdie's temperature and it was a little high. 100.5 degrees. Dwight said it was not quite a fever, but he'd give her a baby aspirin and watch it.

"I don't know, Dwight, maybe I better take her with me."

Dwight shuts down the trunk of the truck where we put some of our potatoes and string beans for trade. "Honey, she'll be fine. She's only a little warm and she's acting normal."

"Yeah, but maybe I should see if Harlan can check her out."

"It's only the middle of the month," He leans his arm against the truck, "Harlan won't be at the Sanctuary."

"Yeah…" I sigh, looking over at Birdie playing in the yard, "But I just want to know for sure. For peace of mind."

"Where you gonna take her?" Dwight reaches into his pocket, "Do you know how to get to Hilltop?"

"No, but I don't want to go there anyway."

Dwight nods, understanding why. "Well…you could go to Alexandria. They have a doctor."

I shake my head. "Uh, no, I don't think so."

"Mommy!" Birdie comes running over with a leaf between her fingers.

"I'm heading out, Bird."

"I go with you." She wraps her arms around my legs.

"Oh, I know you usually go with me, honey, but you're gonna stay with Daddy today."

"No, I go with you," Birdies smiles up at me with her cute little teeth shining, "Please?"

"Birdie, you have to stay with Daddy," I touch her head which is still warm in my hand, "He's gonna get to play with you all day today."

"I wanna go with you, Mommy."

"Birdie- "

Dwight picks her up. "Let her go if she wants to go, Nan." He looks over at her. "You don't want to stay with me?"

"Mm, no." She shakes her head.

"No?" He smiles, "But I thought I was your favorite."

"I wanna see Uncle Hal."

"Oh," I wince, chuckling, "I'm afraid no one holds a candle to Hal."

Dwight snickers with me, while Birdie touches his face. "Does that mean you're gonna take her?"

"Daddy, your face got hurt." Birdie says to him with her hand on his scars.

"I know it did, honey," Dwight kisses her hand, "Are you gonna go with Mommy, or stay with me?"

She puts her hand over his mouth again, so he'll kiss it. "Mommy."

"So, I should pass you to her?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," Dwight spins the opposite way, making her laugh wildly, then passing her to me, "Catch!"

I take her in my arms. "I got her!"

Birdie cackles, clinging onto me. Her laugh breaks off into a slight cough.

"You alright?" I look her over as the coughing settles down. She nods in response. "Maybe it's a good idea she's going."

"She just got a little excited," Dwight rubs her back, "You're alright, right, Bird?"

"Yeah!" She nods.

I exhale, peering at him. "D."

"Get her checked out by the doctor." He tells me.

"I think I will." I carry Birdie around to the side of the truck where her car seat.

"Daddy, come with us."

"Wish I could, but if you're not staying, Daddy's got to get some stuff done."

"Aw!"

"Aw," Dwight steps back, so I can close the door, "You gonna go to Alexandria?"

"I think I should."

"Alright," He nods his head, sticking a cigarette in his mouth, "Don't forget we need a thing of milk, too."

"Didn't you say you'd stop smoking?"

He lights the cigarette. "Yes, I am," Smoke leaves his lips, "After I finish this pack."

I smile. "I really hope so, because I am not getting you more when you do."

"Okay, sounds like a plan."

I walk to the driver's side and he follows, opening the door for me. I climb in and he shuts the door as well. "Thanks."

"Be safe." Dwight gives me a kiss through the window.

"Okay." I smile, starting off up the truck.

"Bye, Daddy!" Birdie waves from the back seat.

"Bye, Birdie." Dwight waves back.

"See ya tonight." I tell him.

"See ya."

"Bye, D." I drive off down the road, looking back in the mirror at him walking back towards the house. I feel a cloud of breath in my lungs, so I breathe in and out as I make my way to town.

* * *

 **Thank you all for the lovely feedback over the first chapter! This chapter is sort of another light one, but the sweet domesticity is gonna be rocked soon…**

 **CLTex: I also love Dwight and Nan's little domestic space. I don't think Negan would be very happy to see how they're getting along, especially since Birdie loves Dwight so much.**

 **XxZombieHoboXx: Glad you enjoyed Save Yourself. Hope you enjoy this fic as well.**

 **Jofrench22: I think Dwight and Nan having their own kid exists within the realm of possibility ;) Glad you liked Negan's POV. I feel like his is a little easier to write, because he's so full of character, while I'm still trying to figure out Dwight's.**

 **Cassia320: I'm happy you loved the first chapter! Sorry you had to wait so long for the second, but I have less time nowadays so I can only write when I can.**

 **elljayde: What is it that you don't like about Dwight and Nan as a couple? No judgement whatsoever, just curious to know what you find so appealing about Negan's relationship with Nan as opposed to Dwight's. I'm always interested in knowing other's perspectives of this.**

 **Kara315: I know, I love the cute moments they have with Birdie. I want her to develop more Negan-like traits which I think will be even more fun for them to have to handle lol.**


	3. Chapter 3

The deer lowers his head to the river to drink. It was cautious to approach the edge, halting in place with the utmost stillness; watching and listening to every sound that it picked up on. But it finally came to the water.

I've been sitting here for about two and a half hours, waiting for a deer to come by. I need to nab this one; eating fish is getting old.

It's been awhile since we've had venison. We've been eating fish, chicken, and, occasionally, squirrel for the last couple months. We tell Birdie it's fish. There haven't been much deer around here and when there is, I either fuck up and miss the shot, or a rotter scares it off, so I'm determined as hell to get this one. It could feed my family for months.

I bring my crossbow up to eye level, careful not to move too quick and catch its attention. The deer's in my scope, my finger's on the trigger. I squeeze it and the bolt flies, hitting the deer in the neck. It drops to the ground. Finally!

I carry it back over my shoulder, since Nan's got the truck. It's not too heavy and I'm just excited I didn't have to fish this afternoon.

It takes me about three hours to skin and clean the deer and pack the meat in the freezer we have in the garage. After that, I check my watch as I smoke out front. Nan and Birdie won't be back for another four or five hours.

Our bedding and some of Birdie's clothes hang on the line outside, so I after I wash up a little, I take it all down to bring it inside. It's sort of nice to stick close to the house. I usually spend a good portion of the day where I do redirect and then two or so hours of fishing or hunting on my way back.

I place Birdie's folded laundry in her dresser and then head to our bedroom with our stuff.

Maybe Nan's onto something. It's tiring having to go out to my redirect spots every damn day. Barriers would give us extra security, so I won't have to do that as often. And, I can stay here and work on things around the house and be close to the girls.

I tuck the cream-colored sheets into edges of the bed, clean and neat. I then lay our bottle green quilt over, tucking it around the sides as well. I know Nan says it doesn't matter if it's exactly perfect, but it's really not that difficult or time-consuming to make a bed the right way.

As I grab the knitted throw that's either a burnt orange, or an orangey brown color, I don't remember what Sherry called it, I almost toss it on the left end corner of the bed to drape over. But I catch myself, recalling that Nan lays it across the bottom half of the bed. Sherry used to place it on the corner…

Sometimes I forget that it's the same house, different life. Different woman. It's easy to fall back into doing things the way they used to be done.

I didn't realize how much I did based on the way Sherry liked it to be done, until I moved Nan and Birdie here. Nan's not as precise or adamant; when she first came here, she followed my lead as if she were a guest. Now that we've built a life together in this house, her ways have settled into the new ways of doing things.

It's no pain to me really. I don't frankly care how shit's done, I just…What the fuck?

From the window in our bedroom, I see smoke coming from the east. That's where one of my redirect spots is.

… **.**

"Mommy?"

"We're almost there, baby."

"I have to potty." Birdie says from the backseat.

"Oh," I look at her through the mirror, "Can you hold it for a few more minutes?"

"Um…yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"I can stop if you need to go right now."

"I saw a sqwuirrel!"

"You did?"

"Yeah, in the trwee!"

I smile, taking a right turn. "Cool beans."

I don't know if she actually saw a squirrel or not, but it was cute.

We pull up to the Sanctuary after two hours of driving. Birdie did surprisingly well. She napped for the first half but didn't whine or complain once during the second half. She usually gets restless in the car, which I understand, but it was nice to have her so content.

The guards roll back the gates for me to drive through.

"Hal!" Birdie cheers, despite Hal not being in sight.

"Yeah, we're gonna see Uncle Hal." I park the car off on the side. Next, I get her out of the back.

"Where's Uncle Hal, Mommy?"

"I don't know," I set her down on the ground, taking hold of her hand, "We'll have to find him."

"I wanna hug him."

"Me, too."

We walk towards the entrance. I smile politely at the people we pass. Even after all this time, it's still a little awkward to come here. Not really because of the people, but because of the memories. The feeling of not being able to leave once I was brought in.

"Hey!" Solara waves at me from by the gates.

"Hi." I wave back.

"Hi!" Birdie waves, too.

"Hi, Birdie." Solara smiles.

The Sanctuary has made quite a few changes since the war. For starters, they've been disarmed; as part of the peace agreement, they gave up all firearms to Rick as some prevention measure. They're also trying to become agrarian now, so there's far more gardens than before and they even planted corn crops.

The workers and the Saviors are now equals. Most of the Saviors almost immediately dropped their sense of superiority over the workers when they surrendered, partially because they were told to, but as far as I know, they've been treating the workers like members of the community, instead of just workers.

The building looks old, worn down. Last winter was really harsh, causing rust both inside and out. More windows have broken and while they initially were replacing them, they stopped when so many kept breaking. Now, they're boarded up in a lot of areas.

"Careful on the steps, Bird."

"'Kay." She touches the yellow railing as we go up the concrete steps.

When we enter the building, it always makes me feel like I'm going to walk into the old Sanctuary. I almost expect to see the quarters back on the factory floor with people living in squalor over their meager possessions. But instead, I see people busy at work, not for points, using the entirety of the floor for the growth of their community.

"Hey!"

I look down and my smile grows.

"I thought I told the guards to keep the riff raff out! They're just lettin' anyone in!"

"Hal!" Birdie lets go of my hand and jogs down the stairs.

"Birdie, be careful."

My heart skips a beat when she trips on the last three steps. Luckily, Hal snatches her up just in time, which causes her to laugh.

"Hey, Pigeon," Hal holds her like a baby, "How's my best girl?"

"I'm doing just fine." I answer, hugging him with one arm.

"I was talking to her," He pecks my cheek, "This is a surprise."

"Why is it a surprise?"

"You haven't been around lately," He elaborates, "Thought maybe I should drive up there and make sure you were all alright."

I roll my eyes with a smile. "It hasn't been that long. Jeez."

"Almost two months."

"We live two hours away, Hal. It's not always realistic to come once a month."

"Speaking of which, it's not the end of the month."

"Are you saying we should leave?"

Hal smiles, looking down at Birdie. "'Fraid so. But she can stay," He bounces her a little, "What do you say, Pidge? You want to stay here to live with me?"

"Yeah," She giggles, "With you and mommy and daddy."

"Alright, pack your things," He kisses her nose, "You're moving in."

"I saw a sqwuirrel in a trwee, Hal."

"You did?" He walks with me, adjusting Birdie to his hip. "What color was it?"

"Um…orwange."

"Oh, I love the orange ones."

"Here." She puts out her hand.

"What?"

"Pleeease!"

He shakes his head, shrugging. "I honestly don't have a clue what you want from me."

Birdie's eyes get big. "Hal."

Hal breaks into a smile. "Ooh! You think I've got something for you?"

"Yeah!"

"Well," He reaches into the pants of his grey cargo shorts, "Let me see what I can find…Uh, I don't think I've got anything for you."

"Aw!"

"Sorry, Pigeon, I didn't know you were coming," Hal smirks, "Wait a minute…what's this?"

He produces a little matchbox car. "Look at that, I did have something for you after all."

"Yay!" She takes the red car. "Look, Mom!"

"Oh, wow," I muss her hair, "How cool is that?"

"Here." She hands it to me.

I snicker, tucking in my jacket pocket, knowing why she gave it to me. "You wanna go see if Alma and Benji want to play while Mommy gets the stuff we need?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, let's go find Marisol."

We head to Marisol and Reed's place. I don't quite know how they came to be a couple, but they started seeing each other when the twins were about a year old and seem rather happy together. Reed still keeps the books, while Marisol has gone back to mechanical work.

Birdie likes to play with Alma and Benjamín, Benji or Ben for short, whenever we come here. I think she definitely likes one more than the other, but I can never tell which one. It might vary from time to time. She had me hang on to the car Hal gave her, because she doesn't want them to want to play with it upon seeing it. Sharing is an obstacle we're trying to get over with her. She'll share with Dwight and I, but other kids are another story.

"What is _that_?" I ask, staring at the graffiti on the wall inside. It reads _; "Saviors save us! We are still Negan"_ in red spray paint.

"Oh, uh, just a little vandalism." Hal brushes it off. "We're going through some hard times, so people are getting frustrated. It's nothing, just stupidity."

I nod my head, still looking at it, upset by it. "Who did it?"

"Don't know, but like I said, it's nothing to worry about. People know they've got better now that they did before."

I exhale through my nose. "I'm gonna go drop her off with Marisol and maybe see how Frankie's doing."

"Alright, come find me after," Hal tells me, "I gotta go take care of something real quick."

"Okay," I take Birdie by the hand, "Let's go find your friends."

"Bye, Hal!"

"See ya later, Pidge."

Marisol and Reed's place is just Reed's room, so we have to climb a lot of stairs. I knock on the door, hearing the kids inside.

The door opens. "Hey!"

"Hi," I smile at Marisol, "How are you?"

"Good, good, come in."

Birdie and I enter. "Hi, Reed."

"Nan." Reed acknowledges me while eating a sandwich at the table and going over logs.

"I'm making lunch," Marisol cuts another sandwich at the counter, "You want to eat with us?"

"Uh, no, thanks," I decline, "I have to go get the supplies on the list. I was actually wondering if Birdie could hang here while I do that."

"Of course," She smiles at Birdie, "You hungry, Birdie?"

Birdie, who's already with the twins by their beds, look over. "Yeah."

"Okay, I'll make you a cheese sandwich."

"Thanks, Mar."

"Sure."

"Play nice, Birdie."

I leave her there and go down a floor. I knock on another door, waiting.

"Just a minute!" Frankie's voice calls out. "Honey, could you get the door?"

The door opens promptly. "Hey, kid."

I smile. "Hi, Keller."

"Hey, Nan!" Frankie beams from inside the small home. "I was wondering when you'd come by."

"Sorry, I know, I meant to come sooner." I step in, smiling, though a little embarrassed. "How are you?"

"I'm doing good," She smiles, "The doctor said I should be fully recovered in about a month or so."

"That's good to hear," I have a seat in the armchair, "So, you'll be on bedrest until then?"

"Well, it's not officially bedrest, Harlan just said I needed rest." She says from their bed.

I nod, "I'm sorry. I would've come sooner, it's just- "

"Don't worry about it!" Frankie waves her hand. "You're two hours from here. Plus, I had Tonya and the others."

"How are they?" I ask, "I didn't see anyone."

"Oh, that's because Hazel's helping Eugene with whatever it is he does, Dani's with Harlan in Hilltop, trying to apprentice him, and Tonya's going to go with DJ to the bridge camp."

"Wow, really?" I raise my brows. "Are they a thing?"

"I guess so," Frankie shrugs, "She said she wanted to help with the bridge and he encouraged her to go."

"Huh."

"I think Hazel's got the hots for Eugene." She gossips with an eye roll. "She's always finding some excuse to go find him."

"Is everyone pairing up?" I chuckle a little.

Frankie smiles. "I guess we're all just trying to find something stable that makes far more sense than the past."

My humored smile lowers and I clear my throat. "Yeah."

"Dani's just learning medicine," She scratches her nose, "That's all she's interested in on that note. Oddly enough, I think Eugene thinks Hazel's weird."

"Alright, I'm gonna head out," Keller walks over to the bed, giving Frankie a brief, but nice kiss on the lips, "I'll be back tonight."

"You can stay in camp, if it's too much trouble."

"No, trouble at all," He smooches her again, which is the most affection I've seen from Keller ever, "See ya tonight."

"Okay, love you."

"Love you, too," He walks to the door, "See ya, Nan."

"Bye."

Frankie waits for him to leave. "I think it's my fault."

I turn back to look at her. "What?"

"The miscarriage," She says with sorrowful eyes, "I don't think I can have children."

I knit my brows. "What do you mean? You- "

"I took a lot of those morning after pills when I was with Negan," She tells me, "What if I did it too much and it's made me…infertile?"

"If you were, you wouldn't have gotten pregnant," I try to assure her, "You can have children, Frankie. This was just…a tragic misfortune."

She licks her lips. "Amber and Mark have been trying to get pregnant for a while and they can't seem to."

I rub my finger along my thumb. "It'll happen, Frankie. For both of you. Just give it time, you'll see."

She smiles bleakly, but warmly. She breathes. "How are things with you? Where's Birdie?"

"She's with Marisol," I tell her, "And we're doing good."

"Good."

…

It takes me about an hour to get the things Dwight and I put on the list. That's because most of what we need is either easy to get, or…not available here. Turns out the Saviors are going through a bit of a rough patch with food.

"So, we can't have any corn?"

"Well, I'd love to give it you, love, but the crops aren't doing so well as of late."

"Oh," I reply, disappointed, "Our chickens' feed is made mostly of corn."

"I'll give you some of our feed," Hal tells me, pushing the dolly with five small crates of supplies, "Sorry, Nan."

"It's okay," I wipe sweat off my forehead, "Our chickens will have to adjust."

"Need help loading up?" He asks, opening the trunk of my truck.

"Uh, y- "

"Hal," Laura calls Hal's name behind us, "We…. Oh, hey, Nan."

"Hi." I say back, cordial.

"What's up?"

Laura returns her gaze to Hal. "We've got a problem by the crops. Justin put up another scarecrow and you-know-who's gonna be pissed."

"Alright, I'll go take it down," Hal leans his arm the truck, looking at me, "I'll load these up when I get back."

"No, go ahead, I can do it."

"Alright." He heads off towards the crops.

Laura lingers by for a moment. We never fully reconciled. It's not like I'm holding a grudge or anything, but we've all been busy the last couple years, it's not exactly taken front burner.

"So…how's the kid?"

"She's doing really good," I answer, "She's with Marisol right now, if you'd liked to see her."

"Oh, uh, well, I've got work to do," Laura clears her throat, "We're building a bridge out on Shelby Road with the other communities, so I gotta get to that."

"Oh, okay," I nod, "See ya around."

"Yeah…" Laura backs away, "Oh, uh, how's D? I haven't seen him in forever."

"He's good."

"Good," She nods back, "Well, I should get going."

"Alright, good luck with the bridge."

"Thanks."

I start to load the crates in the back of the truck once she's gone. They're a little heavy, but not so bad. I got a couple sacks of oats, lentils, flour. I also got a few boxes of minute rice and apples. Dwight's not gonna be too happy with we got for what we traded, but it's what they could do for us. The two crates have other non-food bits and bobs that I got from the trading post for free.

A quick whistle behind me sounds, but I don't pay it mind. Initially.

"Hey, there."

I look over my shoulder, setting the heaviest crate in the trunk. "Oh, hi, Jed."

"Been awhile."

"Um, yeah, I guess."

He looks over me, poking his tongue in his cheek. "Let me help you with that."

"No, I've got it, thanks."

"Where's the little slugger?"

I turn my head. "What?"

He smirks. "Your girl, your kid?"

I stare back. "She's around. Why?"

"Oh, just makin' small talk," He leans his forearm against the top of the trunk, "How's it goin' in exile?"

"It's fine," I answer curtly, "We like it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"D regret double-crossing us?"

I look at him. "You mean Negan?" I suddenly lessen my brazen tone, picking up another crate, "No, he doesn't."

"Huh, well, if you want, y'all can come back," Jed tells me, "I mean, Daryl ain't the boss of everything and we don't have a problem with Dwight."

"Anymore." I huff under my breath.

"You know, I always wondered how he made off with you."

I puzzle my brows. "Sorry?"

"Well, I mean, his face looks like a fuckin' railroad map and he still landed a good lookin' gal like you."

I redirect my eyes back to the last two crates, going back to my work.

"He even nabbed you before Negan did and Negan always took the pretty ones," He goes on, "D even got you back, despite you being pregnant with the boss' kid."

"Is this going somewhere?" I tersely ask him.

"Well, some of us were wondering if- "

"Some of you?" I scoff, "Who exactly is wondering?"

Jed grins. "Justin, myself…a few others."

"Oh, so just the assholes?"

"Oh!" Justin chuckles, approaching us. "Watch out, Jed. Nan's got some stones now."

I roll my eyes, lifting the last crate.

"Here, I'll take that for you."

"No, I've got it." I tell Justin, loading it in.

"Well, look at you," He taunts alongside Jed, "How are things?"

"Fine."

"I was just about to put our questions to rest here with Ol' Nan," Jed tells Justin, "Figured I asked her."

"Ask me what?" I say.

"If Dwight's more hung than Negan," He snickers, "There has to be some reason you chose him over Negan."

Justin laughs. "Yeah, I can't wrap my mind around you wanting to wrap your legs around Dwight."

My cheeks burn with anger. I want to hit him, but instead I close the trunk. "Yeah, you got it," I blandly reply, wanting them to leave me alone.

Both men cackle. "So, Negan was all talk after all?"

I neither confirm nor deny that. My eyes catch sight of Marisol holding the door open for the kids.

"Hey, listen," Justin gets in the way of my sight, "I don't think you're a surefire ten, or anything..."

I huff through my nose.

"I'd say you're about a…" He looks at Jed, "Seven?"

"Sounds about right."

"Right," Justin looks back to me, "Anyway, you're not a ten, but if you ever want someone who can take better care of you than some exiled burn victim, then- "

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," I make clear, "Dwight and I do just fine and from the looks of it, you better worry about yourself before worrying about me."

Justin scoffs, about to retort.

"Mommy!" Birdie comes running over.

Both him and Jed glance over their shoulders.

"Hey!" Justin crouches down, slowing her to a stop. "There's the little bat baby!"

"Birdie," I grab her hand, "Come on."

"Oh, come on, Nan," Justin smiles at my daughter, "We're just playing around, huh?"

"Move," I demand, bringing Birdie to me, "I said move."

"Jesus Christ, Nan," He rises, "What do you think's gonna happen?"

"Afraid we're gonna tell her who her real daddy is?" Jed chimes in, staring solemnly at me, which is unnerving.

I peer back at him, defying him to.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Justin adds, gaining my attention, "He wasn't that bad a leader. Especially not to you."

"Hey!" A gruff voice yells, making us all look. Daryl stalks over.

That's probably one of the biggest changes of the Sanctuary. Daryl was put in charge of the Saviors by Rick after Negan fell. I never understood why; when he was here, he was treated less than human, so how he could ever be want to be here is beyond me.

"Get to the bridge," He barks at the two, "You got work to do."

"We were just visiting a former member of our community," Justin smartly says to him, "Seeing if her old man is being nice to her and keeping her well."

I stare daggers at him.

"I think you said you might wanna move back, right?" He smirks, humored. "You and this little angel can stay with me, if you need a roof over your head."

Daryl shoves him back a little. "Leave her be. Get to the bridge."

Justin looks him over. "Are we not allowed to- "

"I said leave her be and get going."

He scoffs at Daryl but starts to walk off regardless. "See ya around, Nan."

Jed follows, giving Daryl the same look. "Yeah, see ya around." He winks.

I breathe, looking down at Birdie. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah." She reaches up, so I pick her up. She looks over at Daryl. "Hi, Dirl."

He glances at her through the shaggy hair in his eyes. "Hey."

Daryl then walks off towards the gates.

"Thanks." I say mildly, but he doesn't respond. I guess I didn't really expect him to; he doesn't really talk to me.

"You alright?" Hal comes jogging over with a thing of feed.

"Yeah," I sigh, "They were just being assholes."

"Nothing new, eh?"

"Almost three years and they still think calling me a whore is funny," I sigh, looking at him, "Are you going to this bridge thing?"

"Nah, Daryl wants me to stay put and mind the place with Reed."

"Hal, Alma called me a jerk."

"She did?" Hal lightly tugs on her little messy bun. "Why'd she do that?"

"Because she's a jerk!"

"Birdie, we don't call names." I scold her.

"She wouldn't tell me the passwurd." Birdie complains to me.

"What password?"

"Hers and Benji's passwurd."

I smile at her, feeling her forehead. "Well, I guess you'll have to make up your own password and keep it a secret, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"Is Harlan here?" I ask Hal. "I wanna take Birdie for a quick checkup."

"No, he's at Hilltop," Hal answers, furrowing his brows, "It's the middle of the month."

"Oh, yeah…" I say, as if I didn't know, "Shoot, I think she might have a slight fever. I needed to have her checked out."

"You could go to Hilltop." Hal touches Birdie's forehead.

"Don't do that, Hal!" Birdie shakes her head.

"She seems a little warm." Hal concludes.

"Thank you," I huff, "Dwight says she's fine."

"Well, I mean, she seems fine," He looks her over, "She's just warm."

"Well, I'd rather get a professional opinion, no offense."

"None taken," He chuckles, "Well, I guess you should get going to Hilltop."

"Oh, I don't think I want to take Birdie that far out of the way. I told Dwight I'd try to be back before it got dark."

"Yeah, it might not be a keen idea to go there at the moment anyway."

"Why?"

"Maggie hanged Gregory a few days ago," He informs me with an unpleasant look, "It wasn't a pretty sight."

"Why'd she do that?"

"'Cause he convinced the blacksmith to go after her to kill her and then tried to do the same when he failed."

"Wow."

"Take her to Alexandria," Hal suggests, "It's half the time."

I bite my lip, looking at Birdie. "I don't know…"

"I'll come with you, if you want."

"I thought Daryl told you to stay here."

"Reed's here, I can go if you need me to."

"Yeah, Hal come with us!" Birdie says.

I laugh. "I think we'll be fine to go it alone."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, you better stay here," I take Birdie around to the side, "I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

"Alright, drive safely, then."

"Okay."

"Bye, Hal." Birdie waves at him as I'm buckling her in.

"Bye, Pigeon." Hal wiggles her foot. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

I close the door, walking around to the driver's side. "See ya, Handsome."

"Alright, Gorgeous," He brings me into a hug, "Take care."

"Do the same."

"Tell Dwight, I said hello."

…

I finally come up on the burning house. A walker that's on fire walks right off the porch and onto the ground. Fuck. If the flames on its painless body reach the grass, it could start a wildfire.

I run over to put the fire out. I've got a fire extinguisher, but it's in the truck and Nan has the truck. Luckily, there's an old spout that pumps water from the ground.

I grab the mixing bowl beside it and pump as fast as I can. The dirty water sloshes out into the bowl. I run over to the rotter that's pulled itself up on its feet again. It's coming my way, after hearing me over by the spout.

I throw the water on it, before hitting it across the head with the bowl, knocking it to the ground. I take my knife and stick it in the head to stop it from getting back up.

The old house creaks, before collapsing.

I cover my face as it does but look back over at the rubble. The fire is gone for the most part, apparently dying out before I got here. I approach the smoke and see the small flickering embers.

I dig some dirt up with the same bowl I used to get water, pouring it over the hot spots. The fire didn't look like it was all that big, now that I walk the perimeter, kicking dirt along the way. It's an older house, more like a shack that was on its last leg anyway.

My grandpa used to bring me here during hunting season. It was his friend's place that he let my grandpa borrow. I've been using it as a redirect spot; I sit inside and play music from the old record player by the window to attract the dead in. I either take 'em out one by one, or when they come in a larger hoard, I get in the truck and drive them out.

But what the hell caused the fire? I search the place, brushing over pieces of debris to try and find out what may have caused it. The iron stove, which is still standing, isn't hot, so I know it wasn't that. I wouldn't have forgotten to put the fire out before leaving. The curtains are black and practically eaten up by the flames; whatever caused the fire, must have got hold of the curtains which excelled it.

A hand reaches out and grabs my ankle, but I stomp it off, crushing the rotter with the rubble it's under.

I pick through for a while but give up after some time. I guess I'll have to find a new east spot. As I make my way out of the ruins, I spot another weak ember. I go over to it to put it out, but when I do, I notice it's not burning from wood, or piece of curtain.

It's from a lipstick stained cigarette butt.

…

The drive to Alexandria from the Sanctuary is not a long one, but I sort of wish it were. I don't mind driving, I like it. It eases my nerves, except when the road is short.

No matter how many times I've driven here in the last two years, which isn't nearly as much as I do to the Sanctuary, it never gets easier. I'd rather deal with pricks like Jed and Justin than go to Alexandria. The Saviors have more or less gotten over the whole thing with Dwight and even myself, which I suppose is easy, considering I didn't do half of what Dwight did, but the people of Alexandria don't forgive so easily.

I've never done anything to make them hold a grudge, but it still doesn't make it a breeze to go there. I get looked at and it's just uncomfortable. And while no one has ever been outright rude, or hostile towards me, I can feel the tension that me being there brings to a few people. It almost feels like The Scarlet Letter.

It's because of Birdie, I sometimes think. No one knows or is supposed to know she's not biologically Dwight's daughter, but sometimes it seems like more people know than what they'll admit to. It's like everyone knows, but they won't tell. I don't know, maybe this is just me being paranoid. I'm afraid of Maggie knowing. Now more than ever.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Birdie?"

"Where we going?"

"We're gonna go see the doctor at Alexandria." I tell her.

"Why?"

"Um, because you have a checkup."

"Okay."

We pull up the community and the people that stand guard outside, start to clear the path for the car. I park the truck inside to the left, where someone directs me.

"Mommy, I want my car!"

"Okay, just a minute." I unbuckle and get out.

"Been awhile." The guard says.

"Uh, yeah." I open the back door. "Come on, honey."

"I wanna pick a flower," Birdie points to the flowers that freckle this place, chuckling, "And give it to a squwirrel."

"You want to pick a flower for a squirrel?" I laugh, kissing her cheek, "You are so silly."

"Yeah, and pet 'im."

"And pet him?" I smile as we walk. "I don't know if squirrels like to be pet."

"You have to give 'em flowers, Mommy."

"Oh, okay."

I take Birdie to go see Siddiq, who is not one of the people who looks at me funny. He's a really nice guy and Birdie, who's never seen another doctor aside from Harlan, doesn't seem to mind him at all. She doesn't really mind anybody.

The hardest task for him is getting her to keep the thermometer in her mouth, so he can take her temperature. She doesn't like holding it under tongue for that long. It takes a couple tries.

"Can you breathe in really big for me?" Siddiq requests, holding the stethoscope to her chest. "Like this."

He breathes in, puffing his chest. Birdie mimics.

"Good and breathe out. And in again, please," He smiles at her, taking the stethoscope from his ears, "Good job."

"Tank you."

"Well?" I ask politely, but knackered. "Am I worrying for nothing?"

Siddiq writes something down in his notes. "Well, she is warm, but she's not running a fever. It could just be the weather, but I did notice a slight wheezing in her lungs."

"Really?" I look at her, concerned. "Is it serious?"

"It might be just a little allergy congestion," Siddiq says, "If she's not having any difficulties breathing, or isn't fussing, I wouldn't worry. I can give you some decongestion, see if that helps."

"But other than that?"

He smiles. "She's healthy."

"Mommy, my shoe's untied."

I breathe, relieved, crouching down to tie her shoe. "I'm a little embarrassed that I made such a fuss over it, but- "

"Better safe than sorry," He says what I was about to say, setting down his clipboard, "Do either you, or your husband smoke?"

I look over. "Uh, my…boyfriend smokes, yeah. But not in the house and never around Birdie. And he's in the process of quitting."

"Good," He takes a bottle from the cabinet, "Second hand smoke can be just as bad as first-hand smoke."

I nod my head. "Yeah."

"Give her three teaspoons every four to six hours," He hands me the bottle of purplish medicine, "It says it's grape flavored, but I've never met a kid who that mattered to, so good luck."

I chuckle under my breath. "Thank you for seeing her."

"No problem, anytime," He puts his hand out, "She's lovely."

"Thanks."

"I wanna shake." Birdie puts her hand out to him.

He snickers, shaking her hand. "It was a pleasure, Birdie."

"Shake, Mommy." Birdie extends her hand to me next.

I shake her hand. "And a good day to you, miss." I help her off the table. "Well, we better get going home."

"I wanna pick flowers, Mom."

"Oh, um, maybe next time."

"No, mommy, this time."

I walk her out of the hospital. "Thanks again."

"Anytime."

"Mommy, I- "

"Birdie, we have to get home pretty soon, honey," I brush her hair back, "Daddy's gonna miss us."

"But I wanna pick flowers."

"I know, you do, but we can do that at our house."

"No, Mommy, these ones." Birdie points.

"Next time, honey, I prom…."

My eyes gravitate towards the small window I can make out from here. Homes have been rebuilt around it, but I still can see it there beyond the railing of iron stair handles.

"We weren't expecting you."

I break focus and look to find none other than the famous Rick Grimes striding up to us.

"You usually show up at the end of the month, don't you?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," I reply somewhat shyly, "But we needed some things and she needed to see a doctor."

Rick's eyes move to my daughter.

"She's fine," I awkwardly say, "Just a little congestion. Allergies."

He nods slowly. "That's good."

"Yeah…" I can't help but look back at the window.

"You're Judi's dad." Birdie says to Rick, not at all abashed like I am.

"That's right, I am Judith's dad."

I turn my head forward and realize that he had followed my gaze until Birdie spoke to him by the way he's looking at me.

My mouth is open like a trout's as I struggle to talk. "Can I…Uh, can I see him?"

Rick squints as the sun catches his vision, looking over towards the same window.

"I just…want to tell him how she's doing is all," I explain, "It'll take a minute and I…" I exhale choppily below my breath. "I know that you- "

"Ten minutes."

"What?"

Rick looks at me. "You can talk to him," His eyes go to Birdie again and he nods to her, "But she can't go with you."

"Yes, I know," I turn to Birdie, "Birdie, I have to go see someone real fast, so I'm gonna take you to go see Judith," I look up at Rick, "Or maybe Grace, okay?"

"I wanna go with you." Birdie replies.

"Um, why don't we go see if one of your friends wants to color?"

"No, I go with you, Mom."

I breathe out. "Birdie, you can't go with me."

"Why?"

"Well, because…" I bite my lip, "Because Mommy has to go see her friend and he's in timeout, so he's not allowed to have friends over."

"Your fwiend?"

"Yeah, I have to go tell him to behave."

"Why come is he in timeout?" She asks me.

"Um, because he was bad."

"What did he do bad?"

I can't help but glance at Rick briefly. He stares. I return my gaze, smiling. "He called other kids jerks."

Her eyes get worrisome. "I sorry."

"You're sorry you called Alma a jerk?"

"Yeah, I sorry."

"Okay," I pet her head, "Let's go find your friends."

"No timeout?" She looks up at me, taking my hand.

"No," My smile fades little by little, "You don't have to go to timeout."

…

The second door, the one that's part of the small courtyard unlocks and then opens. I assume it's not Prick, because he never goes through that door. I think it makes him feel like a big shot coming down the stairs from the other door that probably looks like it's got some asshole imprisoned behind it.

The door on the left just looks like the door to a garden shed, or something. Someone might be coming down to make sure I'm not belly up, or they could be coming down to grab their gardening hat.

"You said an hour," I chew with my back to them, "You want me to eat, or don't you?"

"Negan?"

I stop chewing and my eyes look up at the tally marks on the wall. I peer over my shoulder. "Nan?"

She stands close to the door, as if to make a run for it. "It's me."

I turn my body around to face her. "Long time, no see."

"Yeah, I know," She says with what I think is a hint of remorse, "I haven't been by in a while." Her eyes observe the wall behind me. "Do you always face the wall like that?"

"How's Birdie?" I ask her, setting down the half-eaten sandwich.

"She's doing really good," Nan smiles meekly, approaching the bars a little more, "She can count to five on her hand. Um…and she's getting really good at- "

"Is she here?"

She looks at me and her smile goes, which gives me my answer. "Uh," She starts to shake her head, "No. No, I left her with Dwight at home."

I nod my head. "So, she's not here?"

"No, she's not."

I look her over. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

She does that thing where she runs her finger along her thumb. It's annoying, but I've learned to tell from it.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm still stuck in a cell," I tell her, "That should catch you up to speed. How long's it been since you came down here last?"

"A while, I guess."

"I count about five months."

Her eyes flicker to the tallies again. "Well, like I said, I haven't been coming to Alexandria for a while."

"You haven't been here in five months?"

"No," She meets my eyes, "I haven't. It's a long drive from home."

"Where is home exactly?" I ask, "You never really gave me much of a picture."

"I'm not telling you where we live."

I scoff, "Afraid I'm gonna pop in for a visit?"

"No, but no one's supposed to know," She tells me, "Dwight said the less people that know, the better."

"But people do know?"

"Yes, but only a few."

"Who?"

She makes that same look on her face. "I'm not gonna tell you that."

"It's not like I can do anything with it."

"So, then why do you want to know so badly?"

"I'd like to have some idea of where my daughter's at."

"She's someplace nice and open," Nan says, "And safe." She treads along the bars. "She's happy there."

I look down in thought. "Good," Is all I can say.

"…She's getting really good at talking. Like holding conversations." She says after a few seconds of silence. She snickers to herself. "She talks all day long. Sometimes to no one; sometimes she just chatters away without care of whether or not anyone's talking back."

I pick up my gaze.

"Her favorite book is _Where the Wild Things Are_ and she says her favorite color is orange, but she uses her green crayons so much, we've had to replace them more than any other color."

Her face seems like it's lit up from within as her smile comes back from talking about our daughter. It reminds me that she's beautiful, as if I needed to be reminded. I'm looking right at her.

"She started saying swear words, so we've had to watch what we say around her," Nan goes on, "Um...oh! Her favorite song is- "

"Does she still have my eyes?" I finally speak.

Nan's smile starts to dip again. Her eyes lower. "Yes, she does."

"What does she look like?" I want to know, "I've only got a picture of her from when she was two months old."

"Um, she's- "

"Maybe you could bring me another picture of her," I suggest, "One that's current."

Her lips part. "I don't know, I'd have to talk to- "

I roll my eyes. "You really need your limp dick husband's permission to give me a damn picture?"

Nan's eyes snap up to mine and then down in that certain way of hers.

I scan her face, scoffing. "What? You two aren't married?"

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, insecure. "No, we're not, but-"

"Why hasn't he put a ring on it?" I press, curious to know, though I am biting. "You've been together for about three years now."

"Because he hasn't, alright?" She snaps, staring back up at me. "But it doesn't matter. We don't need to be married to be a family. It's not important to us."

My eyes move across hers. "You ever find Sherry?"

She furrows her brows. "No, we didn't, but that's not why."

"Then why aren't you married?"

"Maybe because I don't want to be married," She retorts, "My last marriage wasn't exactly a healthy relationship."

I huff, smirking in disbelief. "Oh, so you're the one who doesn't want to get married? He's asked you and you turned him down, because _I_ was such a bad husband? Who are you trying to fucking kid?"

"Is this really what you want to talk about?" She asks me, incredulous. "I have to go soon."

I stare at her, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach for some weird reason. I feel my face grow mild, tired, as I exhale. "She's happy?"

"Yes, she is."

"She's gonna be three soon."

"I know," Nan says, holding her elbows, "Times flies fast."

"Tell me about it." I rasp.

"I'm gonna make a cake for her," She clears her throat, "I'm trying to decide between Swedish princess cake, or lemon with buttercream frosting."

"What? Like a birthday party?"

"Yeah," She nods, "Dwight and I give her a little party every year. We spend the day doing fun things; pancakes for breakfast, a picnic, then we- "

"I meant like an actual birthday party," I scoff, "Not some weird shindig for a homeschooled shut-in with no friends."

Nan licks her lips. "We live two hours away. It's kind of hard to invite people over."

"Whose fault is that?" I ask rhetorically. "Dwight got thrown to the howling wilderness and decided to drag you and my kid out with him."

"Let's not make this about Dwight, or his and I's relationship that you can't handle," She argues back, "We don't want people knowing where we live. Period. It's for safety measures."

"Yeah, because you live out in the middle of fucking nowhere with a toddler and the fear of someone wanting to fucking get back at Dwight for all the bad shit he's done."

"Yes, because we live alone, and we have to provide a safe place for our child!" She raises her voice. "But if you think it's to protect us from what Dwight's done, you're dreaming."

I scoff at her, skeptical.

"A lot of people have gotten over Dwight's actions," Nan comes closer to the bars, "But no one has forgiven yours."

At that, I start to lose the attitude.

"I don't want certain people to know where we live, because I'm afraid…" The words seem to stick in her throat. Like it's too terrible to speak. She swallows. "That they would try to hurt Birdie, if they knew she was your daughter."

That one stung.

"And besides, no one really wants their kids to play with the 'little slugger' so a birthday party is sort of unlikely."

My eyes look down.

"Most people don't know, but they do at the same time and it's like they watch her…to see if she resembles anything like you."

Nan exhales like she's exhausted.

"Except me…and Dwight," Her head turns to the left, looking through the window of the door, "When I was pregnant with her, I was afraid of her being your child."

I look over.

"I thought about all the times we were together, and I hated to think something was made from it," She turns her head forward, "But when she was born, I didn't care anymore. I tried to, but I couldn't. Every time I looked at her, I thought how I could hate anything that gave me her?"

I remain quiet, watching her face from behind the bars.

"Or anyone?" She says just under breath.

"Why did you come here?"

She looks back at me. "To see how you were and to tell you about Birdie."

"Why do you care how I am?" I inquire.

Nan stares at me from the otherside of the bars. Suddenly, I don't know why, but I don't feel as pissed anymore.

The door opens and Rick steps in. "Time's up."

Nan nods at him. "Okay." She looks over at me. "I have to go."

"Wait," I stand up, "Nan, I want to see her."

She pauses. "I told you, she isn't- "

"Bullshit, I know she's here," I put my hands on the bars, "I know when you're lying, I know you brought her with you."

Nan puzzles her brows. "Negan, she- "

"Please," I grip the iron," Please, she's my daughter, I…I want to see her. "

"It's not up to me, Negan," Nan shakes her head, "It's up to them. But even if it was, I…" She shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know if it'd be a good idea."

"Nan, please," I plead with an aching throat, "I haven't seen her in years. I don't know even know what she looks like now."

"How would I explain this to her?" Nan asks me, putting her hand out towards the bars of the cell, as if wanting to know the answer. "What would I tell her is the reason I brought her down here to some stranger in a cell?"

"You tell the truth," I nearly scoff, "You tell her I'm her dad and- "

"She's two years old, Negan," She shakes her head again, "All her life, Dwight has been her father. I can't just throw her through a loop like that. And what am I supposed to tell her about why you're here?"

I nostrils flare as I breathe out.

"Do you really want me to explain that to her?"

"Come on," Rick puts his hand out to corral Nan, "Time's up."

"Nan!" I call her and she stops. "Please."

Nan inhales and exhales. "I'm sorry, Negan, but I can't."

My eyes start to hurt. "Please."

"I'll come see you next time I'm here."

Anger surges up like hot water. "Don't fucking bother, you fucking cunt!"

Nan turns her head and walks out the door. "Goodbye, Negan."

Rick watches me like a wild animal trapped in a cage, before he shuts the door, locking it.

I heave out, running my hands down my face as I begin to pace, like a wild animal in trapped in a cage. I bring my fist against the wall. I hear a crack and I know I've broken something, but I can hardly feel anything.

I put my hands over my face again, sitting back down on my cot. My breath slips out from under me again. Goddamn her.

"I shouldn't have said that," I say to myself, combing both hands through my hair, "I shouldn't have called you that."

Now she's never coming back.

…

I follow Rick to his house, where I left my daughter. We don't talk, but I prefer we didn't. I casually breathe in and breathe out, trying to compose myself before we get there. It's not that far a walk; only a few a houses down across the street.

We come upon the house that's porch is huge and got a little bench on it. I smile as I hear Birdie talking away.

"I saw this sqwuirrel," She says and from where I stand, I can tell she's sitting on her knees on the bench, "He was orwange and I sawed him in a trwee."

"Oh, yeah?" Michonne sits on a stool by the small table. "Do you like squirrels?"

"Um, yeah," Birdie answers, scribbling on paper, "And chickens. We got chickens."

"You do? At your house?"

"Yeah," She giggles, "I pet 'em and sometimes Mommy lets me hold 'em."

"Oh, that sounds nice."

"Yeah, Mommy's nice to me."

I step up on the porch. "Hey, baby."

Birdie looks over. "Hi, Mommy!"

"Hi," I walk over to the little table, "Are you drawing pictures?"

"Yeah, look!" She holds up the paper. "I drawed a sqwuirrel."

"Oh, my goodness," I take a look at it, "Is that the squirrel you saw today?"

"Yeah!"

"Wow, that is so good," I set it back in front of her, "You know who would like this?"

"Who?"

"Daddy," I move loose hair from her face, "Why don't we go home and show it to him? We can put it on the fridge."

"Yeah, okay." She gets up from the bench. "Bye, Judi. Bye, Michonne."

"Bye." Judith says, reading a book. Birdie doesn't call her Judi as an affectionate nickname, she just can't say the '-ith' part of her name.

"Bye, sweetie." Michonne smiles.

"Thank you for watching her."

Michonne nods cordially in response. "Sure."

I look at Judith. "Bye, Judith."

She looks up at me. "Bye."

She doesn't remember me from before, but I could hardly expect her to.

I take Birdie's hand. "Alright, Birdie Jane, we gotta go."

"'Kay."

"You need to go potty before we leave?"

"No."

"Okay." I make eye contact with Rick as we walk down the steps. I don't know if I should say goodbye, or thanks, or nothing. I just smile politely as we pass.

"Bye, Judi's dad." Birdie waves at him.

"Goodbye." He nods.

We tread to the front and I try not to walk faster than Birdie can keep up. I just want to go home. I knew it would be a bad idea to come. This was a mistake.

…

I look it over between my fingers. The lipstick stain looks like a very faint mauve color. It can't be. I wish I had the butt from back at the Sanctuary for comparison, because I can't remember what it looked like.

If it were her, she'd have come around by now. It's been years…and she left that note when I came back to get the place ready for Nan and the baby. It's not her. I've looked from time to time. I hope she's out there, but if she is, she's gone.

The sound of the truck pulling up gets my attention. I tuck the cigarette in my shirt pocket, getting up from the kitchen table. I open the front door to Nan parking the truck outside the garage.

I walk my way to the truck. "Hey." I smile as Birdie waves at me from the window.

Nan gets out of the car and walks around, while I open the door to the backseat.

"Daddy!"

"Hey, baby." I start to unbuckle her car seat straps. "Did you have fun today?"

"I drawed a picture!"

I pick her up. "Did you bring it for me to see?"

"Yeah. Mommy?" She turns to look for Nan. "Where's my picture?"

"On the seat by your car seat, honey." Nan replies, opening the trunk.

I look in. "Oh, is this it?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, wow, what is it?"

"An orwange sqwuirrel," She points at it, "I sawed it today."

"Good job, babe," I put her down, "You wanna go stick on the fridge?"

"Yeah," Birdie nods, "Verwy high."

"Very high on the fridge? Okay, we can do that," I look over at Nan by the back of the truck, "How about you go inside and figure out where you want it?"

"'Kay!" She takes the picture and runs inside.

I go around to the trunk, where Nan's unloading the crates. "Hey."

"Hi."

"What'd you get?"

"Some rice, flour, lentils, and oats," She lists, setting one down on top of the other, "I got some other stuff, too."

"What about corn?"

"No, I didn't get anything like that. They couldn't trade me that."

I huff, looking at the crates. "We gave them stuff from our garden. Oats hardly seems a fair trade."

"Yeah, well, they are going through a rough patch and couldn't give me corn."

I sigh through my nose. "They shorted us."

"They couldn't give us what they didn't have, D."

"Yeah, I guess…" I scratch my nose. "I just think they sometimes take advantage of the fact that we're out here and rely on trading with them."

"Hal wouldn't cheat us."

"I'm not saying he would, but- "

Nan suddenly throws her arms around me. I'm a little taken back, not knowing what brought this on, but I hug her back.

"What's- "

"I just had a long day." She muffles into my shoulder.

I pat her back. "What ha- "

"I don't want to go back for a while." She croaks, holding me tight.

I rest my cheek on her head. "Okay."

She finally breaks from the embrace and her face looks soft and tired around the eyes. "We can manage on our own for a few months, right?"

"Yeah," I nod my head, "I, uh, I caught a deer."

She puts on a smile. "Way to go," She brushes a hand under her nose, "Is that what I smell?"

"I made us a stew," I nod again, "I don't know if Birdie will eat it, but I'll make her a grilled cheese if not."

Nan pats my arm as she walks by to go into the house. "I gotta go pee. I'll help you bring in the crates as soon as I'm done."

"Nah, it's okay, I've got it. It's only five boxes."

"Okay." She stops in her tracks. "Dwight?"

"Yeah, honey?"

Nan looks over her shoulder and the look is a little unsettlingly raw. "I love you."

I look her over. "I love you, too."

"I want…" She looks offs as if she heard a noise from the woods. She seems out of breath.

"You want what?" I ask.

Nan turns back, peering into me again. She decidedly sighs. "Uh, I don't know. I lost my train of thought."

I try to read her face. "Well, let me know when you find it."

"Yeah." She nods once more, smiling, and then turns to go back inside.

"Mommy!" Birdie appears at the door.

"Hey!" Nan chuckles, leaning forward as she walks. "Thank you for inviting me to your house! Can I come in?"

"No!" Birdie scrunches her nose and smiles mischievously. "Jus' kidding! Come in."

"Oh, thank you," Nan picks our daughter up, taking her inside, "Did you decide where you want the picture?"

"I want Daddy do it!"

"Okay, Daddy can put it up."

I exhale, staring out in the same direction Nan did. The woods are quiet and vacant and the sun's starting to get behind them. I turn and take up two of the crates at once, moving to take them inside.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **I apologize for Birdie's grammatical/pronunciation errors, but she's two, so...lol**

 **Kara315: I am trying to sew in some Negan traits into Birdie's personality. Nan has sort of a copper brown hair color, so it's kind of like a reddish brown that leans on the lighter side. I don't know how Dwight would take Birdie starting to resemble Negan. He loves her, so I don't know if it would matter. He might not like it if Negan ever came around and Birdie started to take a liking to him.**

 **CLTex: No worries, Birdie's okay for now. Glad you love their little family life! I think they've got a sweet little dynamic, if I do say so myself lol.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Content warning: sexual assault and self harm**

* * *

 _She puts her hands on my chest as I press my hips to hers. Ours lips are locked, hot and heavy. She shifts under me and our bellies touch._

 _I feel myself harden against her, so I reach my hand down between us to undo my belt. Her mouth breaks from mine, turning her head, so I put mine to her neck. She pushes against my arms._

" _N-Negan," She meekly says my name, pushing me more firmly, "Negan, you said we could slow."_

" _We are going slow," I tell her, "Take me out."_

 _Her lips are parted and her eyes travel down and then back to mine. "I want to go slower."_

" _Well, I don't," I retort, smirking, "So, go ahead and take me out."_

 _She looks off and her hand reaches below us. I moan as she pulls me out of my pants._

" _Get your legs apart." I say, sticking my knee between both of hers._

 _She keeps her legs together as much as she can. "I...I want to take things slow."_

 _I move up from her neck and stare down at her, which makes her cower. I stick my tongue in my cheek. "I thought we had an agreement."_

" _We do, but I-"_

" _We agreed that if you wanted to see the baby, you and I were to spend a little time together," I remind her, "Isn't that what we agreed upon?"_

 _She closes her mouth, nodding. "I just...I want-"_

" _And I thought we understood that it's not about what you want. It's about what I want and I'm ready to go."_

 _She lowers her eyes, mouthing an inaudible. "Okay."_

" _Now, get your legs apart or I'll do it for you."_

 _She squirms under my weight, parting her legs._

 _I grin. "Pull your knickers down."_

 _She turns her head, swallowing as she slides them down._

" _Good girl," I reach my hand down to position myself and then I drive my cock into her warm center._

 _She inhales sharply, letting it out choppily._

 _I groan against her skin. "Oh, Nan. Oh, baby," I put my mouth on hers, "Oh, honey."_

 _I thrust into her, steady, but rough. Nan looks towards the wall, closing her eyes. Her fingers dig into my flesh, which would hurt if she didn't bite her nails down._

" _W-wait," She suddenly pushes against me again, "Negan, I...I hear the baby."_

" _No, you don't." I keep going, not hearing anything behind us._

" _Yes, I-I do," She insists, looking past me, "I think she's awake. Stop."_

 _I exhale as I pause, frustrated. I give her a hard look._

 _Nan's eyes read mine and they grow, filling with tears. Her lip quivers. "I-I'm sorry. You can keep going."_

 _I climb off her and off the bed._

" _No, Negan, I'm sorry!" She starts to cry, sitting up in bed. "We can keep going!"_

 _I stride over to the doors, opening one promptly. "Someone come get the baby!"_

 _One of my wives comes in, going over to the crib on the other side of the room. She purposely doesn't look towards the bed, she just gently picks the sleeping baby up and leaves._

 _I shut the door and glance back to Nan sobbing into her hands on the bed. I walk back._

" _You have one of two options;" I tell her, growing more impatient, "You can stop crying and we can get back to it, which would mean you can have the extra time with our daughter, as promised, or...you can get up, get out, and wait around for me to let you see her next. Whenever that will be."_

 _Nan sniffles, removing her hands from her face. She wipes her eyes._

" _What's it gonna be, darlin'?"_

 _She runs her trembling fingers under nose. "I'll stay."_

" _Are you gonna stop crying?" I want to know._

 _She nods sullenly. "Yes."_

" _That's my girl," I smile, getting back in bed, "Lie down."_

 _Nan obeys, laying back on her back. I climb over her, looking down at her tear-streamed face. "You're beautiful."_

 _She won't make eye contact, she just keeps her eyes towards the wall._

" _Do you love me?" I ask her, grazing her thigh with my hand, "Tell me you that you love me."_

" _I love you, Negan." She croaks._

 _I smile again, chuckling. "I know you do."_

 _I stick it back in her and resume bucking into her while she stares hollowly at nothing, balling the sheets between her fist until her knuckles go white._

I shoot up from my sleep. I pant as sweat beats down my face. I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head.

"No," I say to myself, "No."

What the fuck was that? That wasn't real, that wasn't me. I would never do that. I would _never_ do that.

The door to the terrace creaks open, but I hardly notice. I haven't been this fucked up about a dream in god knows how long.

"Good morning." Nora, the woman they send down in their place greets. "I've got breakfast for you."

"Take it away," I shake my head, rubbing my eyes, "I don't want it."

"You have to ea-"

"I said I don't want it!" I raise my voice. "I'm not hungry."

Nora nods. "Alright, then. I'll just leave it by your cell and come back in an hour."

"No, take it with you," I tell her, "I'm not eating."

"Okay," She walks towards the door, "We'll try again at lunch."

I wince at the pang wailing in my wrapped up hand that I broke three days ago against the wall. I rest my back on the wall, sitting in bed, replaying that horrible fucking dream in my head. Trying to make sense of it.

…

I turn the stove off and move the potatoes to a cool burner. They still sizzle in the pan when I put a lid on them to keep them hot. I go to the sink to wash the bit of oil off my hands.

"Bird, you ready to eat?"

She doesn't answer, so I look behind me under the table where she's been playing with her stuffed lamb and blocks. The lamb and the blocks are there, but she's not, so I glance towards the empty living room.

"Birdie?" I call out, but she doesn't reply. "Birdie!"

I check the entryway of our house, before walking down the hall to see where she's at. Her room is empty and bathroom is vacant, so there's only one other place she can be.

"Birdie?" I push the door to Nan and I's bedroom open.

The bathroom door is wide open and I can hear her voice echoing inside.

"Orwange."

"Orange?" Nan's mild voice also bounces off the tile. "Are you sure you don't like green just a little bit better?"

"Um, no," Birdie says, "I don't like grween."

"You don't like green? Then how come you keep using up the green crayons the most?"

I walk to the doorway and see her sitting on her knees on the bath rug by the tub, coloring on the edge.

"Um…" Birdie shrugs, scribbling with seriousness, "I don't know, let me fink about it."

"Alright, I'll let you think about it." Nan says back with her head rested on her knees that she's got pulled up to her chest. Her eyes blink up and find mine. "Is breakfast ready?"

"Yeah."

She nods, looking back at Birdie. "Go with Daddy and eat breakfast."

"Okay," Birdie gets up, "Oh, no! It got wet!" She holds up the water spotted coloring book. "It ruined, Daddy!"

"It's not ruined," I take it up, "We just have to dry it a little."

"No, it ruined!"

"I promise it's not ruined, baby," I inspect the pages, "It just got a little wet is all. We'll fix it, okay?"

"Okay," She takes it back before she pads out of the bathroom, "C'mon, Daddy, let's go eat breakfast. Mommy's taking a baff."

I snicker, "I'm right behind you. Go get up in your chair." I peer over at Nan. "You want me to save you a plate?"

"No, I'm getting out," She uncurls her legs, sinking them into the water, "Just give me a minute to dry off and get dressed."

"Alright." I nod, looking over her melancholy demeanor.

I return to the kitchen where Birdie's back under the table with her lamb, asking it what animal she's got in her hand.

"Get up in your chair, Bird."

"Okay," She crawls out and hands me the toy, "Here." She climbs up in her chair and waits for me to move her closer to the table. "I want Wamby!"

"Okay, but put Lamby on the chair next you, so you don't dirty him up again."

"'Kay."

"You want hash browns and scrambled eggs?"

"Yeah!" She nods. "And toast."

"And toast." I go to the stove to make her plate.

A few minutes later, I turn my head when I see Nan walk in. Her face is still flushed and shiny from the steamy bath. She always looks beautiful after she's been sitting in a hot bath.

"Hey."

"Hey," She comes over to the stove, "Smells good."

"Thanks." I hand her Birdie's plate.

"Here you go, baby." She sets it in front of her.

"Tank you."

"You want hashbrowns?"

"Please," She says, "Can you put the kettle on? I think I want some tea."

"Sure." I flip on the burner with the tea kettle on it. I bring her her breakfast a minute later.

"Thanks." She smiles faintly.

I sit down with my family to eat as soon as I make my own plate.

"Daddy, my sock fell off."

"We'll put it back on after breakfast."

"My foot's cold." Birdie complains.

Nan looks under the table. "I see it."

"No, Daddy put it back on." Birdie tells her.

"I'm closer, Bird."

"No, Mommy," She shakes her head, "Daddy do it."

I push my chair out, getting up. "It's okay, I've got it." I reach under the table and get her little brown sock with confetti polka dots and put it back on her bare foot. "There."

"Tank you," She continues to eat, "My foot's warm 'gain."

I chuckle. "Good." I glance over at Nan's, who's smiling at me. "What?"

"Nothing," She pushes her hashbrowns around the spilled yoke on her plate, "You're just really sweet."

I don't know what to say to that, so I go back to eating.

"Are you going out today?"

"No, I'm gonna work on the barriers some more."

She nods quietly in response. "You want some help? I can give you a hand later when Birdie's napping."

"I'm just cutting the wood right now," I chew, "I won't need your help until I actually have to hammer 'em into the logs."

"What about with sharpening the ends?"

"Yeah, that, too."

Nan twirls her fork thoughtfully. "Well, I...guess I'll do the laundry then."

I peer over. "I mean, you can help if you want to, honey, but it's not necessary right now."

"I won't help, if it' not necessary," She stands up when the kettle whistles, taking her plate with her, "I'm gonna start cleaning up, since you made breakfast."

"Okay," I check over my shoulder, "You're not mad, right?"

"Uh-uh," She shakes her head, pouring hot water into a mug, "I'm fine."

"Okay," I turn forward again, looking over at Birdie," Use your fork, please."

"Daddy, my hand's yucky."

"Well, if you'd use your fork instead of your fingers, your hand wouldn't get yucky."

Nan comes over to the table with a wet rag. "Hold out your hand."

Birdie offers her her hand. "Tank you."

"You're very welcome," Nan cleans it off, "Oh, D, when are you going to the east spot again?"

I stop mid-chew, looking over. "Uh, why?"

Her eyes meet mine as she passes to go to the sink. "Because you took one of my favorite records with you the last time and I'd like it back."

"Oh," I say, clearing my throat, "Well, the east spot burned down."

"What? When?"

"Last Sunday when you and Birdie were into town," I inform her, lifting my coffee cup, "Sorry, honey, but the whole place went down. I could go back and see if the record survived, but-"

"No, that's okay," She tells me, "How did it happen?"

I set the cup down, licking my lips. "Um, I, uh...I think it might have been from a cigarette."

She tsks behind me. "Dwight, you-"

"I know," I interject, "I should quit smoking. I am."

"As soon as you finish your pack?"

"Yeah."

"Well, when do you think that will be?"

"Any day now," I look at her face, "What? It takes me longer to finish a pack when I don't have easy access to more."

"I told you what the doctor said."

"I'm quitting, Nan," I go back to eating, "I said I would and I will."

Birdie lets out a small, gruff cough, but seems to be unphased by it. It does sound hoarser than a few days ago.

Nan exhales through her nose behind me, but she doesn't say anything more. At least not about my smoking. "Can you help me give Birdie her decongestant after breakfast?"

"Yeah," I nod, "Absolutely."

…

I stare up at the ceiling on the other side of the room. My head keeps reeling and re-reeling that fucking dream in my head. Or maybe it's me that keeps at it.

My stomach hurts, sick by the image of me thrusting on top of her like some fucking animal. What's worse is seeing Nan pinned under me. The despondent look of her face. How could I be such a monster to her? I know it was just a dream and dreams rarely mean anything, but what the fuck? I've never been so struck by one before, except for the ones I use to have of back when Lucille was in the hospital. When she turned. I can't get my mind around it.

Sure, I'm pissed at Nan, but I would never even think of doing that to her, or any woman for that matter.

The door opens to the terrace again, only this time more abrupt and angry enough to catch my attention. She drops a tray down on the ground by my cell.

"Eat it."

I look up from the sandwich on the tray to her. "I'm not hungry."

"The living eat and you are still alive," Michonne retorts, "So, eat, Negan."

"Unless you come in here and force it down my throat, I'm not eating it."

"What is this?" She asks impatiently. "Some sort of hunger strike?"

"No, I'm not on strike," I shake my head, leaning back, "I just don't feel like eating at the moment. Am I not allowed to lose my appetite every now and then?"

"You haven't eaten in the last three days," Michonne remarks, "You're telling me it's simply because you're not hungry?"

"Is that really that hard to understand?"

She huffs. "I'll be back in one hour. I want that gone."

I grin at her fierce demands, but I lower it as I think. "Alright, I'll eat it...but only if you stay and talk to me."

"No, I have work to do."

"Well, you and your boyfriend put me here to make an example outta me, right?" I say, licking my dry lips, "Proof that civilization is being rebuilt? Well, if I starve to death in here, then you lose your point, don't you?"

"I thought you said you weren't on strike."

"I'm not," I shrug, "If you stay and talk to me."

She stares at me with her piercing eyes. She then grabs the chair and sits in it. "Fine. I'll talk to you. You've got ten minutes."

"Right, I forgot Rick doesn't want me socializing with anyone longer than that. Except with him," I smirk faintly, "Don't take it to heart. We would never work out."

Michonne turns her head, unamused. "What do you want?"

"To talk."

"About?"

I glance down. "Nothing much, just life and how it's going."

"It's going great," She replies, rather defensively, "We're rebuilding the world."

"I never get tired of hearing that," I scoff, "I'm surprised you haven't already done it by now. I did it and it only took me a year."

"You didn't rebuild anything," Michonne argues, "In fact, we're still cleaning up all the damage you did."

I scan her face. "My people aren't cooperating as much as Rick wants me to think, are they?"

She huffs again, folding her arms. "Every step forward feels like two steps back," She looks at me, "But it's a work in progress. Everything will fall into place."

"And if it doesn't?"

She glowers at me. "Then we'll bring 'em down here and remind them of the consequences."

I snicker a little. "You seem tired...frustrated."

"I am tired and frustrated," She snaps, "I've got a ton of work on my plate and I'm stuck talking to you, so you'll stop being a baby and eat."

I nod, "Must be hard going from badass warrior to city planner. Part time babysitter."

She looks off again.

"It is, isn't it?" I goad, "I know the feeling, as you can imagine." I stand up from the cot. "I am sure glad my wife never had to see me like this."

Michonne scoffs. "You mean as opposed to the asshole you were before?"

I lean on the wall. "She was an angel, for the most part, but I...I didn't deserve her." I stare out the barred window across the cell. "We would have loved to have a kid like Carl."

"So, then why didn't you have kids?"

I swallow. "Because she couldn't have kids. We got pregnant a few times, but she'd go into preterm labor and we'd always lose 'em."

Michonne doesn't say anything for a moment.

"I think that's why I took it so hard when he died," I add, "He was everything I always wanted in a son."

"I think about him everyday," She says without anger, "I see him in everything and every place."

I glance over at her from beyond the bars. "Do you see him in here?"

She meets my eyes. "Everywhere."

I barely nod, looking her over. "He wasn't your first, was he? You had another kid before?"

Michonne grimaces again.

"What happened to him?" I ask her.

"What happened to your wife?" She challenges. "How'd she die?"

I sigh through my nose. "The way people use to; cancer."

She stares. I don't know if she feels bad or not.

"What about your first boy?"

"His name was Andre and he just didn't make it." She tells me sharply.

I nod my head. "Well, I'm...grateful that my wife died when she did. It was at the start of all this."

Michonne doesn't respond, she looks at the wall, aloof.

"She was weak when she died, she would've never made it," I continue, "And I know I've said she gives me strength, but I think if I had to constantly worry about her out there, she would've made me weak." I glance at her. "Just like I'm sure you know that about Andre, too."

Michonne immediately turns back. "What?"

"Whatever we were before, we aren't now and that's because we lost people who would've made us weak, if they were alive," I explain, "We changed to survive and it worked out for us, because we're still alive. We're warriors, Michonne; we aren't meant to be kissing boo-boos or rotting in a cell. We're meant to be out there."

She continues to stare, eyes on fire.

I look away for a second in thought, before blinking back to her. "Your boy and my wife? We only get our strength from them because they're dead. We're better off with them being gone."

She springs up from the chair in a fury. She grabs the tray and flips it, clanking it against the bars and sending the sandwich flying in pieces, before she storms out of the dark room.

She'll be back.

…

"Birdie, open wide."

"Mm-mm." She shakes her head, lips sealed.

"Honey, it'll make you feel better," I tell her with a sigh, "The nice doctor wanted you to take it."

"No, I don't like it!" She argues.

"I know you don't, but it'll help you."

"No, Mommy, it's icky!"

I exhale, before putting the spoonful in my mouth. It's really hard to pretend that it's not the worst thing I've ever tasted, but I manage. I swallow hard, trying not to gag. "See, it's not that bad."

Birdie, unconvinced from experience, shakes her head adamantly. "No!"

The front door opens.

"Dwight?"

"Yeah?" He calls back.

"I need your help!"

He comes into the kitchen, dirty and sweaty from the work he was doing. "What's up?"

"It's time for Birdie to take her medicine again and she won't take it."

He looks at her sitting on the countertop. "You don't want to take your medicine?"

"No," She tells him, "It's icky, Daddy. I don't like it."

"It'll help you feel better."

"No, I don't like it!"

Dwight walks to the fridge. "Okay, then you don't have to take it."

I furrow my brows. "D, she has to-"

"Let's not fight her anymore on it, Nan," He shuts the fridge door, holding a jar of apple juice, "It's takes us twenty minutes to get her to take it every time. Birdie, you want juice?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, go pick up your blocks in the other room and I'll get you some."

"Okay!"

I help her down, before she braves to just leap off the counter. She runs into the entryway where she had been playing earlier.

I watch Dwight come over with a small glass with about four ounces of apple juice. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting her to take her medicine." He measures out the decongestant onto a spoon.

I fold my arms. "You think we should drug her?"

"We are not drugging her," He says, mixing it in, "She needs to take the medicine and this might be the only way to get her to. My mom used to do the same thing with me."

"Done!" Birdie comes running in.

"You picked up all your blocks?" Dwight asks her.

"Yeah."

"And put 'em back in your room?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, good job," He treads to the table, "Come have your juice."

"Poun' it." Birdie puts her fist up.

Dwight bums her fist with his. "Let me get you a straw."

He grabs her a straw from a drawer and sticks into the glass. She sucks down the small cocktail in two minutes. She ends with a refreshing 'ah!', completely unaware that it contained the grape-flavored medicine that she despises so much.

"Was it good?" I ask her.

"Yeah."

"Good," I smile, "Go get your shoes, so we can go pick some more berries."

"'Kay." She hops off her chair and leaves the kitchen.

I smile as she strolls away.

"See, it worked."

I glance towards Dwight. "Yeah."

He gives me a discerning look. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I answer, smoothing my finger along my thumb, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," He shrugs, noticing, "You've just been sort of...quiet the last couple of days."

"Oh, well, nothing's wrong," I say, "I'm a little tired, but aside from that, I'm fine."

"Okay," He nods, not wholly convinced, "Let me wash up real quick and I'll go with you."

"Alright."

Birdie brings Dwight two shoes, neither of which match the other. "Here, Daddy."

"Babe, they have to be the same shoes," He chuckles, handing one back to her, "Go get the other that looks like this."

"'Kay," She takes it and then puts her other hand up, "Here, I put that one back, if you want."

"Alright, go put it back."

"Okay." She leaves the kitchen again.

Dwight laughs under his breath. "She's so cute."

"Yeah," I smile, "I noticed she's starting to pronounce things a little better."

"Me, too," He says, "I'm hearing less and less w's."

Birdies returns promptly. "I got it!"

"Good job," Dwight takes the shoe, "Go sit, so I can put 'em on."

"Mm, no!" She suddenly decides. "I don't want to wear 'em."

"Well, you have to, if you're going outside."

"No, I go in my socks."

"You're not going out in your socks," Dwight tells her, "Go sit, please."

"No, I don't want to."

"Birdie." He says her name with a patient sternness.

She lowers her shoulders, moping. "I don't want to wear 'em."

"Then you're not going outside."

Birdie knits her brows and scowls. "I want to."

"Then you have to put on your shoes." I chime in.

"'Kay, okay!" She gives in. "But I'm very mad 'bout it."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way," Dwight wiggles one shoe on her foot, "But you have to wear shoes outside."

"Don't talk to me, I'm mad."

"Watch your mouth."

"No, you!" Birdie sasses. She gets this way whenever she's not feeling good or has just woken up from a nap.

Dwight looks up from putting on her second shoe. "Do you need to go sit in timeout?"

"No!"

"Then stop being bratty."

She scrunches her nose. "I not a brat."

"Could've fooled me," Dwight picks her up off the chair and sets her down, "Alright, just give me a minute to clean up."

"Okay." I agree, my eyes following him to the sink.

"Mommy, I don't want to go to timeout." Birdie wraps her arms around my legs.

"You don't have to," I pet her head, "But if you don't mind me and Daddy, you're gonna wind up there."

"Is your fwiend in timeout?"

"Um," I look up towards Dwight, who's looking back as he cleans the back of his neck with a washcloth, "Yeah, he's still in timeout."

"For a long time?" She asks.

"Mhm."

"He is sad?"

"Um...a little bit."

"'Cause he has to be in timeout?"

I smile softly. "Yeah, because he has to be in timeout."

"Aw," Birdie turns her head to Dwight, "Mommy's fwiend's in timeout."

"Oh, yeah?" Dwight picks his gaze up. "That's too bad."

I breath out through my nose, refocusing on Birdie with a smile. "How many berries do you think we'll pick today?"

"A very lot."

"A very lot?" I chuckle, taking her hand, "I think so, too. Let's go wait outside for Daddy."

…

The terrace door flies open and shuts just as fast, rattling the windows a bit. I knew she'd be back. She sets a new sandwich down.

"Why would say those things?" Michonne demands to know.

I look over at her. "I wasn't trying to offend you."

"Why do you care what I do?" She asks. "Caring for my daughter, planting kale...why do you care if I do any of that as opposed to being out there?"

"I think you're stuck," I get up from my cot, "I think you're like me; you've lost what kept you going."

"My family is what keeps me going," She growls, "And I still have family."

I look her over, exhaling. "I shouldn't have brought up your son. I'm sorry, I should've known that's a tender subject."

She huffs, "Why do you care?"

"Because, like I said, I get it," I approach the bars a little more, "We're not that different, you and me. We both get strength from the dead. You may not like it, but we've got more in common that we do different."

"No, I'm not the same as you," She makes clear, "Yeah, we do what we do to get by, but you got a kick out of it. And yeah, I get my strength from the dead, but I live for the living. My sons are gone, but I work hard every day to make sure my daughter has a damn good life, which is a lot more than you can say for yours."

I stare, afflicted by that last part. Can't say I didn't have it coming.

Her eyes read accordingly. "So, is that what this about? The hunger strike? The desperate connection you're trying to make with me?"

I don't answer. She doesn't give me the chance to deny it.

"You call the mother of your child a fowl name and then decide to throw a little pity party for yourself?"

I stick my tongue in my cheek. "I shouldn't have called her that," I sigh, still kicking myself for it, "I'm afraid she won't come back now, because of it."

"I wouldn't have thought you'd care with how you treat her."

"There's nothing left to fear in this world except that."

Michonne gazes at me. "She's the only connection you have to your little girl."

"Yeah, she is."

She nods curiously. "So, then why did you treat her so badly? Not just a few days ago, but before you wound up here?"

"I didn't treat her badly," I correct her, defensive, "I gave her a lot more than I gave my other wives, or anybody else for that matter."

"If she slept with you," Michonne retorts, "Same as your other wives. You weren't a good sumaritan; you traded food, shelter, and medicine for sex."

"I never made her, or the others do anything they didn't choose to do," I claim, walking to the other side of my cell, troubled, "I would never do that."

"But you did," She says, "You threatened to take her baby, if she didn't live with you. Dwight told us what happened."

I scoff, "Yeah, I bet that melted jackass would tell you some horror story to make it look like I was a monster to her."

"He told us, because he didn't want us to look down on her for being your wife and for having your child. He was afraid they'd both be made pariahs," She steps closer to the bars, "He wanted Rick and I's word that she and your daughter would be safe when they came here, because you still have a lot of enemies."

I scratch my beard. "Yeah, I heard the widow's still itching to kill me," I turn to face her, "If he wanted to keep them safe, he wouldn't have told you they were mine."

"They aren't yours," Michonne clarifies, "You can't own people, Negan. And he did it for her, because she wanted to bring Birdie down here to see you."

I itch my beard more. It's getting to be a real pain in my ass. "Have you seen her? My daughter?"

"Yes, I have," She says, matter of fact, "I watched her a few days ago while Nan was down here talking to you."

"So she was here?" I huff, "Nan was lying to me."

"Guess so." Michonne agrees, not caring.

I dig some more at my beard. "I didn't want it to be like that, you know."

"Like what?"

"I didn't want to have to give her that ultimatum," I blink back up to her gaze, "She forced my hand."

At that, Michonne chuckles incredulously. "And how exactly did she force your hand?"

"She…"

I recall that evening when I told Nan how it would be. I can remember the sounds of her crying as they took Dwight to the cells. Vividly, because it was the same crying I heard in my dream. I also remember the fury in her eyes, in her hands, in her voice. I laughed. Her voice shook with anger and I laughed. Like I always did to her.

"How?"

I swallow. "She...she just did."

"Wow," She huffs, "You can't even come up with anything that would justify it."

"I didn't want it to be that way."

"But you made a choice."

"Yeah, I did," I agree, irritated, "It wasn't meant to hurt her."

"What did you think would happen?"

"She liked me," I bite my lip, furrowing my brows, "She was different from my other wives. She…"

"She what?"

"She was something else."

Michonne stares at me. "You like her."

"She took my daughter two hours away and let's her think a man who betrayed me is her father," I face her with a scowl, "She won't even give me a current picture of her."

"And yet you're still afraid she won't come back."

"Hell yeah, I am," I retort, "She's the only one aside from Rick I actually look forward to seeing."

A smile curls upon her lips, as if she's got me in the open.

"She's the mother of my child," I come closer to the bars, "I like her for that reason, nothing more. It's a man thing, you wouldn't understand." I run my hand over my scratchy beard. "She does it for me when I need to rub one out."

Michonne scoffs. "Eat the sandwich."

I pick up the sandwich and take a small bite. "If she never comes back then I'll have nothing and that's what you're afraid of; not just being like me, but ending up like me. Because there is nothing worse than nothing."

She scans my eyes. "So long as you're still breathing, it's not nothing. And you may not get to see your daughter, but she's alive and safe. You have that knowledge and that's something."

She steps towards the door.

"Wait." I set down the sandwich.

"What?" She says, tired of me.

"There's something I want to ask you."

She waits for me to ask.

I move towards the end of the cell closest to the door. "Nan won't bring Birdie down here, because you won't allow her to."

Michonne arches her brow.

"She says she wouldn't if she could, but I know if you would-"

"No."

I stare, affronted by her swift answer. "Please," I softly implore, "I haven't seen her since she was a baby. I just want to see her. I won't even talk to her." I point up to the little window in my cell. "She doesn't even have to come down here. I can see her from the window, if you let Nan bring her by."

"No, Negan," Michonne repeats more firmly, "It's not gonna happen."

I feel my throat tighten. "Please. She's my little girl, I...I want to see her. I need to see her."

"Your actions have consequences, Negan, and as much as it sucks, you'll just have to live with it."

I blink my damp eyes, lowering my head. "Then I want to see Lucille."

"We don't have your bat, Negan."

"I know, Nan does though," I inform her, "She said she was put away, so she can-"

"She lied," Michonne shrugs, indifferent, "She doesn't have your bat either. It was never picked up from out there where you dropped it."

I furrow my brows, confused. "No, no, I asked her if she had her and she said…"

I think back to when she brought Birdie by before they left, trying to remember exactly what she said. I asked her about Lucille, she said she was put away, I asked if she had her, and she said…

A weigh drops in me like a sandbag. She didn't say anything. No, she said goodbye, but she didn't answer my question. She doesn't have her. She didn't answer me, because she doesn't have her. My eyes fill with tears and my breathing gets harder. She's still out there.

"No," I shake my head, sharpening my gaze at Michonne, " _No_."

She looks over me, not with pity, but with a sense that makes me feel like the pathetic asshole that I am. She says nothing, she just leaves, leaving me alone in the dark.

It all just comes and I can't stop it. The way I've been carrying on, I wouldn't know how. I just stand where I stand, hopeless.

"I am gonna see my Lucille." I say to myself.

I shuffle back to my cot. I stop by the wall, putting both my hands on it to catch my breath. I don't know if I keep doing this anymore. I've put on a brave face, but the truth is, I'm not alright.

I have nothing, no one.

My wife's dead, my family is gone. My bat, which got me through, is gone. I don't have anything more to lose. It's all been taken from me.

My eyes snap up and study the tally marks etched into the wall.

I breathe in. I pound my head against the wall. My vision blurs, but I shrug it off. I put my hands back onto the wall and hit my head into the wall again.

…

"Here."

"Oh, thanks, but we're not washing your hair tonight." I set the bottle of shampoo on the edge of the bathtub.

I rest my elbow on the tub, laying my head in my hand as I watch Birdie bathe before bedtime. She likes the bath, even when she has to wash her hair. She likes the smell of the three-in-one honey-scented shampoo. She cups her hands over her face when it comes time to rinse it out to avoid getting water in her eyes.

"I want my blocks."

"The blocks can't be in the bathtub, baby, they'll get ruined."

"Where's Daddy?" She asks me.

"Daddy's working still," I answer her, "He'll be home soon."

"I love Daddy."

I smile. "I know you do."

"Where's my shovel?"

I grab the little yellow beach shovel she uses as a bath toy. It came with a purple pail but we learned fast what a mistake it was to let her have it in the tub.

"It was right behind you."

She accepts the shovel. "Mommy, I sleep with you and Daddy."

"Mm, no," I say, "You're gonna sleep in your bed."

"Mm, no," She mimics me, "I wanna sleep with you and Daddy."

I sit up, dipping her washcloth into the warm water. "You are a big girl, Birdie, and big girls sleep in their own beds."

"No, I don't want to."

"Well, if you didn't sleep in your bed, then who would make sure Lamby was alright?" I wring out the cloth, washing her face with it. She winces as I do. "You don't want him to be scared in your room all by himself, do you?"

"Um, no," She takes the washcloth from me, "He can sleep with us."

"There's not enough room for four people in our bed."

"Um...okay," She puts the rag over her face, tilting her head back to keep it on, "I sleep in my room."

I smile sleepily. "Atta girl."

After her bath, we go to her room. I comb her hair and let her sleep with it down. Her hair's a little past her shoulders now and has a wispy, aimless wave to it, which is weird since my hair has always been straight with only a little tousle.

She likes to pick out her pajamas herself and attempts to get them on herself. I usually end up helping her put on her shirt whenever she sticks one arm through the hole for her head.

"Uh-oh."

"What?"

"Look." She lifts her foot up.

"What is it?" I ask, still unsure of what she's trying to show me.

"My toe polish."

I look closer and discover that the polish is chipped on pretty much all ten toes. "Oh, we'll have to repaint them."

"Now?"

"Maybe."

"Yes, Mommy, now," She insists, "They chipped."

I sigh, looking down at her. "It has to be right now?"

"Yeah."

"You just won't be able to sleep unless your toenail polish is fixed?"

"Yeah."

I smile at her. "Alright, let's go."

We go to my room, where I've got nail polish remover and a few bottles of salvaged nail polish. I don't even know why I have it, except that Birdie likes it. I only paint my toes with her, but really I don't care about nail polish.

"What color do you want?"

"Um, grween."

"We don't have green," I remind her, pulling out the nail polishes, "We've got poppy red, milkshake pink, this-"

"Not pink!"

"Not pink?" I say, pretending to be shocked. "I thought you _loved_ pink?"

"No, I don't like pink!"

I snicker. "Alright, we won't do pink. So, which color? Red, this rosy mauve, or...blue?"

"Blue!"

"I should have known." I unscrew the lid from the nail polish. Birdie only ever wants her toes painted the bright, orangey red or this dusty soft blue color. The pink always goes neglected by both of us.

I usually paint my toes the mauve color, or the same color as Birdie's when she wants to match. The good thing about nail polish on the toes is that it last ages, even on my daughter's toes, so we don't have to do this every couple days.

"There, all done," I stick the brush back in, "Careful not to smudge it."

"Okay," She admires her freshly polished toes, "Tank you."

"You're welcome," I purse my lips, "Give me a kiss."

She leans over and pecks my lips. "Love you."

"I love you, too," I give her another smooch, "Are you ready for bed?"

"I'm hungry."

"You're hungry?"

"Yeah."

"I think you're stalling, kid."

"I want a snack."

"Alright," I take her hand, "We'll get a little snack, but after that, it's bedtime."

"Okay."

I make her a small bowl of applesauce and some of the berries we picked in the late afternoon, which instantly reminds me that I need to give her her medicine again. I feel oddly bad about doing this, but I mix it into the apple sauce when she's not looking. I guess maybe D's right; we aren't drugging her, we're just getting her to take her decongestant.

After her little snack, we go back to her room, where I read her a book and rock her a little afterwards, humming her favorite song until she falls asleep.

Dwight's not home yet. It was still light out after dinner, so he decided to work a little more before calling it a day. I go about my normal night routine in our bedroom, hoping to wind down for bed. It sounds stranges, but as tired as I feel, I haven't been sleeping well since I came back from Alexandria.

That conversation with Negan left a bad feeling in my chest. I knew he'd be a little biting with me, he usually is. Our visits aren't typically pleasant; he's either rude or cold towards me and all we talk about is Birdie, which is what I prefer. I always ask him about his well being, but he always gives me a smart remark.

Truth be told, I lie to him more often than not about how much I go to Alexandria. I feel somewhat guilty for doing so, it's just that he can make things so hard and disconcerting. Like it's my fault he's in that cell. Like all his problems are because of me, my freedom, and my choice to move Birdie away. He's never outright said it, but the way he speaks and the way he looks at me almost convey it.

And maybe some small part of me does feel guilty about it. If I didn't have Birdie, I might not give a damn about where he's at, or how's he doing, but since I do, I do worry. I can't help it.

I look at the clock on the wall. Dwight's still not back, but I'm not concerned. He said he might be late, because he has to store the wood someplace they won't get ruined.

I breathe. I walk down the hall to check on Birdie. She's fast asleep, snuggled next to her stuffed lamb. I close the door ever so carefully, leaving only a crack open. I'm afraid Dwight coming in will wake her, but she'd absolutely flip if she woke up in the middle of the night and the door was shut all the way.

I decide to wait up for him, because it's not that late and I'm not tired enough to sleep anyway. I make a cup of tea and sit in the living room. We have a T.V. that plays DVDs, all of which are old films that Dwight got from his grandpa's place. Poor Birdie always attempts to watch them but they're mostly old westerns, dramas, or Hitchcock films, which I think are too old for her. The only one she can stand to actually sit and watch is _The Sound of Music_ and that's only because there's singing involved. I put in _Sunset Boulevard_ , but I don't really pay attention. Even if I was, I've got the volume so low, I can hardly hear it.

My mind wanders back to the other day. The tables felt so turned. It was difficult to see him beg to see her, especially when there was a time when I thought I would have to beg him.

After a few minutes, I get up and tread to the kitchen with my tea that's gone cold. I pour it down the drain and let the dish sit in the sink. As I go to go back to the living room, my eyes catch a glimpse of the door to the garage.

I stare for a moment, before wrapping my cardigan to myself and going down the hall instead. I unlock the door and slip out there, gently shutting the door as quietly as I can. I paw for the flashlight we hang on a hook by the entrance, since the lightswitch doesn't work in here. Once I have it, I click it on and shine the light on the tassle in the middle of the garage.

I walk over and give it a tug, turning on the lights. My eyes scan the left side of the room, where Dwight's got a work area set up. Under the tool shelves sits my trunk. I pad over in bare feet. I pull it out when I'm close enough, crouching down as I unlatch it and open it up.

Everything I ever had in this trunk, clothes and utensils aside, is still in this old trunk. I didn't have a lot of stuff at the Sanctuary, so I didn't need any extra storage space, except a place to put my trunk. I could've left it there, but it was the only constant thing I had in my possession while I was there, so I guess it grew on me.

I dig out the ring Charlie gave me from behind the picture of the couple. I open the locket part, glance over it briefly, before I put it back. I didn't come here to look at that.

I glance down at something else, something I never possessed but packed anyway. I shut the trunk down. I didn't really come to look at any of the stuff in there. My eyes find the camcorder on a shelf across the room. I don't know why we keep it out there. I take it off the shelf and back up towards my trunk, sitting down on it.

I turn it on and click the down arrow button, scrolling one by one through the various recordings. I pause on one for a moment, playing it. It was when Birdie was six months old and crawling for the first time. I smile as I watch myself encourage her in the background as she pushes herself up on all fours. She smiles at Dwight, who's behind the camera and also egging her to come to him. She crawls towards the camera and smiles even brighter at the victory, as well as our cheering.

After it's over, I continue going down until I find the earliest video. Before I press play, the square screen gives me the beginning image. It's Birdie, a few days old and lying in her crib.

…

I smoke this cigarette down until there's nothing left. It was already half gone when I lit it. I don't go through a pack as fast when I save cigarettes I would've tossed back when I could just run down to the gas station nine miles down the road.

I smoke in the woods across from the house, because Nan doesn't like it when I smoke on the property. She doesn't like me smoking period, but double when it's close to Birdie. I'll quit, if she wants me to, but I'm at least gonna finish the pack.

When there's nothing left, I flick it, grinding out the embers into the dirt. I then walk towards the house. It's a nice night, warm. I'd sit out here for a while longer, if I wasn't dead tired from all the wood I've chopped down for the barriers.

It's past Birdie's bedtime, so I try to be careful not to open and close the door too loudly. When I get in, I kick my shoes off, glancing over towards the flickering lights coming from the living room.

"Honey?" I call, but I don't get an answer. I go into the kitchen to wash my sappy, smoke stenched hands.

I peer over to look into the living room through the arch way. The T.V.'s on, but I don't see her on the couch. I wash the mug and bowl in the sink, sticking them on the drying rack, before drying my hands.

I step into the living room, looking at the black and white movie that's inaudible. I turn it off, which makes the room go completely dark. I look around, it's quiet. The crickets chirp outside, but I don't hear anything or anyone inside.

"Nan?"

I go down the hall, towards our room. Birdie's door is cracked, so I take a quick peek in. She's asleep, so I shut it just as it was before. Before I go further, I hear a noise coming from behind me. I look over my shoulder towards the garage door.

I turn completely around when I'm certain I heard something. I go up to the door and pause from opening it when I hear the sound a little more than before. I puzzle my brows when I realize what it is.

I open the door and there in the garage, I find Nan. She's sitting on her trunk, bawling into her hands.

"Nan?"

She starts at my voice, quickly drying her eyes once she see me. "Hey," She croaks, embarrassed, "I didn't hear you come in."

"Honey, what's wrong?"

Nan shakes her head, standing. "Nothing."

"You're crying."

"I know, I was just…" She wipes her eyes, "Watching some of Birdie's firsts."

"Oh," I nod, looking down at the camera on the trunk, "You seem upset."

She looks me in the eyes and hers fill with again. "I saw Negan in Alexandria."

My brows furrow.

"I took Birdie to see the doctor and I just...," She sniffs, "Wanted to tell him how Birdie was doing, but it was a mistake." She blinks up at me. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep it from you, I just didn't think you'd want to hear about it."

I look her over, exhaling. I touch her arm, bringing her into a hug. She cries a little more against me.

"I should've just said goodbye the first time and left it a that." She sobs.

I rub her back soothingly. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I tell her as we look at each other again, "It's okay."

She nods, breathing out. "I think it'll be good to be away from there for awhile. We can worry about our own lives."

"Yeah," I smile sympathetically, brushing a strand of hair from her lip that got stuck because her crying, "We'll be alright on our own for awhile."

"Good."

"I'm sorry for making you go," I add, "You really didn't want to and I pushed you."

She shrugs. "We needed supplies."

"Yeah," I wrap my arms around her again, "I love you, Nan."

"I love you, too," She snickers against my chest, "I love it when you smell like this."

"Like what? Sweat and dirt and tree sap?" I kiss her head. "I need a shower."

"Maybe I'll join you," Nan smiles up at me, "I'm a little turned on by you looking and smelling like hard work…" She bites her lip, "Like a good provider."

I chuckle. "I thought we were a partnership?"

"We are," She says, tugging a little on the bottom of my shirt, "But seeing you like this just does something biological to me."

"Oh," I laugh with her, pulling her close, "Does it now?"

"Yes, it does," Nan slides her hand underneath, "I even like the faint smell of smoke on you. I'll miss it when you quit."

My smile starts to lower. I lick my lip. "Um, while we're being honest…"

"Yeah?"

"The cigarette that burned down the cabin? It wasn't mine."

Her brows start to gather. "What?"

"It wasn't mine."

"Well...then whose was it?"

"I don't know," I say in all honesty, "I found it in the rubble after the place collapsed."

"You think there's someone else out there?"

"I mean, it wasn't my cigarette, so…" I glance down at her worried face, "But, hey, don't worry, alright? I've been scouting the perimeter for the last couple days and I haven't seen any signs of anyone other than us."

"Well, what if they're covering their tracks," She takes her hand out from under my shirt, looking off towards the small row of rectangular windows at the top of the garage door, "D, they could be watching us."

"I…" I scratch the back of my head, "I think it might be Sherry."

Nan turns her head forward with a deeper furrow. "Sherry?"

"Yeah."

"How...How do you know?"

"I don't," I tell her, "But the cigarette I found had lipstick on it and, so…it could be her."

She nods her head slowly, lowering her eyes in thought. The light from over our heads reminds me that she was just crying. Suddenly I become aware of how that might not be the comforting news I thought it would be.

"Oh."

"I mean, it might be," I add, "I don't know for sure, but we aren't in any danger. I promise."

"Okay."

I reach out and touch her arm again. "It's getting late."

Nan nods. "Yeah."

She walks past me and I notice the camera there on the trunk again. I turn and follow her out of the garage, tugging off the light and walking to the light she's provided by the open door.

We both go down the hall to our bedroom. I undress inside, throwing my dirty clothes by the bathroom door, since I'll have to put them in the hamper. Nan sits on the edge of the bed on my side. She soothes her arm, looking at only she knows what.

"Tired?" I ask her after a period of silence

"Mhm." She nods, before her head shifts to the side.

I follow her gaze to my bedside table, to the only drawer it has. I peel off my shirt. "The water's hot, right?"

"Yeah," She replies, "I gave Birdie a bath earlier, but it should be fine."

"Good, because I really need a hot shower."

Nan looks back at me. "Um, I think I'm gonna take a rain check on that shower."

"Oh," I itch the side of my nose, "Okay. I didn't think you were actually getting in. We were just playing around."

"Yeah," She smiles faintly, "I'm just really tired. I want to go bed."

"Alright," I nod my head, "I'll be quick so the water won't keep you up."

"No, it's alright, take as long as you need," Nan tells me, "I don't mind the sound."

"Okay," I kiss her lips, "Night."

"Goodnight."

I go into the bathroom, pull down my boxer briefs, turn on the shower, and get in. I wash with the soap Nan made from goat's milk and I think she said oatmeal and bergamot. She learned how from someone at the Sanctuary and has gotten pretty good at it.

I pick up the argan oil shampoo we share, which was just grabbed from some abandoned store and traded to her for some of the soap, and squeeze a dollop into my hand. Nan puts almond oil, or any type of bottled oil she can get, in her hair the night before she washes it.

I think she said it was because we didn't have conditioner. I've never used conditioner, but apparently it's essential. She sometimes puts it in Birdie's hair, too.

I step out of the shower into the rest of the steamy bathroom. I dry off and put my underwear back on, rubbing the towel through my hair, as well as patting my face and beard. I brush my teeth, spit, and rinse.

When I finally leave the bathroom, I'm surprised to find not only Nan in the bed, but Birdie. She's got one arm around her and the other propping her head up on the pillow.

After slipping on my pajama bottoms and a shirt, I go over to the bed. "Nan?"

"Hm?" She softly grunts, eyes closed.

"How come Birdie's in the bed?" I ask in a whisper. "Did she wake up?"

"No," She murmurs, "I just feel safer with her in here with us."

I nod, glancing over at the door that's closed and locked. I sigh gently through my nose, before I peel back the covers and get into bed.

…

My eyelids feel like lead curtains as I struggle to open them. My sight is scattered, trying to focus. There's a hard pounding in my head that only the heavy duty shit could quit. My broken hand throbs but it's nowhere near as bad as my head.

It's nighttime. I realize that when my eyes finally regain vision. I hear the crickets and can smell the wet earth in the air.

I'm in my cot, alive. I start to wonder how I got here, but I suddenly remember lying down after the third blow. I felt myself getting loose and decided to lie down. I think I may have even struggled to stay awake, but I can't remember.

The terrace door opens, but I don't look over. My eyes survey row after row of tally marks. A tray is set down and the smell of dinner makes me sick, while also making my stomach growl.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Hope you all enjoy!**


	5. Chapter 5

The shower's going in the bathroom when I wake up. I only wake up for a brief moment; to look at the clock on Dwight's nightstand for the time. It's six-twelve in the morning. I could start my day, but the water will have to have some time between showers to heat up again.

I close my eyes again with half the intention to fall into a light, conscious sleep until Dwight brings me coffee like he always does, while simultaneously listening to the sound of Birdie's breathing and for any motion that would suggest she's waking up. But I can already feel myself sinking back down the more I lay here.

The shower shuts off and the curtain draws back. The next thing I hear is a mug being set down on my end table. When I open my eyes again, it's seven. I smile as I feel a light kiss brush against my temple.

"Thank you." I murmur, smelling the aroma.

The baby starts to stir around in the bed a few minutes after Dwight leaves our bedroom. I lay on my back and stretch my limbs as she does, knowing it's officially time to get up.

I open my eyes to her rubbing her balled up fists into her eyes. "Good morning."

"G'morning," Birdie pouts out her lips, "I'm sweaty."

"Me, too," I brush my bangs back out of my face, "It got warm in here last night."

"I need a baff, Mommy."

"Okay, you want to take one now, or after breakfast?"

"Now."

"Alright."

After Birdie's bath, I get her dressed and let her go play, so I can shower. I find her in the living room afterwards, moving the toy car Hal gave her a while back along all the furniture while making driving noises.

As soon as she sees me lace up the Doc Martens that I had to trade an arm and a leg for at the Sanctuary trading post, she runs to her room and then into the kitchen where I'm sitting with her shoes, knowing that I intend to go out to the coop. She loves to be outside, but of course we can't let her play out there without one of us, even with the barriers up.

Outside, I feed the chickens and collect the eggs while Birdie goes back and forth between complimenting the chickens as she pets them and drawing in the dirt with sticks. She tries to pet the rooster, and he almost lets her, but he scurries away from her before she can.

It feels a little cooler out here than yesterday which means fall is coming, if not here already. I go over to my lemon tree, which is doing no better yet no worse. I wish it'd grow just one lemon, so I could feel capable of growing something without Dwight's help.

When we get back inside, Dwight has breakfast ready. Birdie's favorite; oatmeal. She loves pancakes, but oatmeal is her hands down favorite breakfast, which is why Dwight will sometimes mix oats into the pancake mix. She loves brown sugar or cinnamon mixed in, or sometimes just a few berries thrown on top. Her favorite has to be when Dwight makes it into a savory porridge with cheese, tomatoes, and chives with either hashbrowns or bacon mixed in. That might be my favorite, too, which is why I'm glad that's the kind he made today with toast.

The day plays out pretty routinely. Now that the barriers are up and effective, Dwight doesn't do redirect everyday, so he either spends his time hunting, fishing, or scavenging. Today, he's sticking to home. I'm glad for that, too; I like when he's home more.

"Daddy, I go fissing with you, 'kay?"

Dwight looks away from the pantry door that's door knob sticks a little when we try to open it. "You want to go fishing with me?"

"Yeah," Birdie nods, sitting by his toolbox, pretending to fix the matchbox toy car with a small screwdriver, "I wanna go with you."

"I'm not going fishing today."

"When?"

"Um, I don't know," He answers, going back to the fixing the door, "Maybe tomorrow or the day after."

"I go with you, 'kay?"

"Uh…" He glances my way, "You'd have to ask Mom."

My eyes flicker from his to her, even though she's still preoccupied. "We'll see."

Dwight moves his gaze back to the door.

"Mommy, I don't wanna nap today."

"You have to nap, Bird," I fold a pair of her hand-me-down pants, "You get too cranky without one."

"No, I don't want to."

"Well, maybe you'll change your mind after lunch."

"No, I'm not."

"Okay." I stack the pants on a pile of her laundry.

Birdie follows Dwight around like a puppy all day. He finishes his to-do list by noon, so after that he and her pretty much spend the rest of the day playing. They play with her blocks for a while and then move onto hide-and-seek after.

Hide-and-seek turns into Dwight pretending to be a monster, while Birdie hides in anxious excitement of being found. When he finds her she screams, and laughs, and tries to get away and Dwight either chases her, or grabs her up and nibbles on her arm, foot, or tummy as her laughter grows more boisterous. Birdie loves that game, so they literally play it for two hours.

After lunch, they crash. I walk into the living room once I'm done cleaning up in the kitchen and come across Dwight on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, sleeping, while Birdie lays against him. I smile at how sweet it is, so I go get the camera to snap a photo of it.

I use the quiet time to bring in some vegetables from our garden for dinner. It's my turn to cook dinner, so I might as well get a head start. I always try to make something really good; something my dad or my grandma used to make that I always loved, but I don't obviously have the recipes, so I have to get creative. It usually turns out fine.

I'm not the best cook. I was a baker before the world changed, not a cook. Charlie used to do the cooking and the same thing goes for Dwight now. I know it's not a big deal, but it sometimes bothers me. Dwight does so much around here, I just want to feel like I do an equal share.

"Mommy?"

I turn from the sink, where I'm washing cabbage. "Hey, sweet girl. Did you just wake up?"

Birdie nods, moving her messy napped on hair out of her face. "Yeah."

"You want some water?"

"Yeah." She says with a raspy voice.

"Okay, let me get you a cup." I dry my hands and open up the cupboard.

"Mommy, I want my crayons."

"Well, go get 'em." I tell her, filling a sippy cup with cold water.

"Okay." She leaves the kitchen and returns promptly with her wooden pencil holder full of crayons and her pad of plain white paper. "Do you wanna draw with me?"

"Um, sure. Just let me just finish washing these."

"'Kay." She sits herself up in her usual spot at the kitchen table.

I finish up washing the cabbage and let it drain in a colander. I go over to the table and pull the chair out across from her. "What are you drawing?"

"Um, the sun." She replies, moving the yellow crayon around and around in a big circle.

"Oh, very nice." I tear off a piece of paper from the pad. She filled her last color book up a few weeks ago, so she just has this pad of paper now, which I think she likes better. "Should I draw the moon?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." I take a dark blue and a gray crayon from the cup.

Birdie scribbles the bright yellow sun with concentration, taking up almost the entire page. When she's done, she sets it aside and gets another piece of paper.

"What are you drawing now?"

"Um…" She knits her brows, thinking, "A heart."

I nod, going back to drawing. "Are you still sleepy?"

"Yeah." She says.

"You and Daddy really had fun this afternoon, huh?"

"Yeah," Birdie repeats, "Daddy does fun stuff with me."

"Oh, yeah? And we only do boring stuff together?"

"Um, no," She shakes her head, "We feed the chickens and steal their eggs."

I chuckle, "We don't steal their eggs, baby."

"Yeah, we do. We steal 'em."

"No, we don't," I shake my head, humored, "The chickens let us take them."

"'Cause we feed them and are nice to them?" She looks over.

"Yeah," I nod, "They...work for us in exchange for a house and food."

"Oh, okay." Birdie goes back to coloring.

She sets the uneven heart picture aside and gets a new piece of paper. That pad has about three hundred pages, but at this rate, she's gonna have to color front and back, which may not go over well with her. Birdie's very particular about certain things and I have no clue as to why.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah?"

"When can we see Hal?" Birdie inquires. "I miss him."

I smile faintly. "Soon."

"When?"

"Soon, Birdie." I lie.

"I want him to come to our house."

"Well, maybe he will." I rest my cheek in my hand.

"I wanna play with my friends, too."

I look over at her briefly, before I focus on my drawing. "Well, maybe we'll go see them soon."

"They prolly miss me," She adds, "Or think I got eaten by deaders."

"They do not think you got eaten," I huff, a little amused, "Don't be so dramatic."

"Is your friend not in time out anymore?"

I furrow my brows. I would've thought she'd have forgotten about him by now. "My friend?"

"Yeah, your friend in time out."

I lower my eyes to the page again. "Um, no, he's still there."

"He's very bad?"

"Um...he did do something very bad, yes."

"Oh, no," She scribbles, "That too bad."

I nod my head. I get up from the table after a couple minutes.

"Where you going?"

"Just to get some water."

"Okay."

I get some water and walk back to the table. I glance at Birdie's latest drawing. "What's this?"

"Flowers," She tells me, referring to the purple and yellow scribbles with green lines sticking out of them, "And that's a squirrel, and that's the chickens, and that's me."

"Oh, I love it." I smile at the picture, "Can we put it up on the fridge?"

"Um, no, you can't have this one," She hands me the picture of the sun, "Here, this one's for you."

"Oh, thank you."

"But don't put it on the fridge." She instructs.

"Oh, I can't?" I ask, "I have to just keep it for myself?"

"Yeah," Birdie points to the heart, "That's for Daddy."

"Oh, okay," I peer over that the picture she's still drawing, "So, if I can't have that one, then who's it for?"

"Um…" She shrugs her shoulders, "Don't know."

I nod my head. "Hal, maybe?"

"Um, no," She runs her hand under her nose, "Your friend."

I rise my brows. "It's for my friend?"

"Yeah." Birdie nods.

"How come?"

She shrugs again. "'Cause I say so."

I smile at her little saucy answer, before I look down at the picture again. "...I think he'll like it, Birdie. It's very good."

"Yeah." She agrees, then hands it to me. "Here."

"You're done?" I look it over.

"Yes."

"Wow, good job," I smile at her, "You should sign your name to it, so he knows who it's from."

"'Kay."

I walk over to her side of the table. "Here, I'll help you."

She picks up a crayon and while she knows how to hold it correctly, she's too young to actually write anything legible. I nest her hand in mine as I help her write out her name in green crayon. It's still a little sloppy, since I let her have half the control, but you can read it.

"B-i-r-d-i-e," I spell it out, "Good job, Birdie."

"Tank you." She sets down the crayon. "He'll like it?"

"I think it will make him very happy."

I take up the picture, sweeping my eyes across it again. I blink up towards the entryway between the living room and kitchen, where Dwight's standing with his eyes on mine. I walk the picture over to one of the kitchen drawers.

"Birdie, you want a snack?"

…

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to concentrate my thoughts as my hand moves up and down my cock. My head's pressed against my forearm on the back wall of the cell as I stand above my bedpan.

"Come on." I groan, frustrated.

I keep trying to focus on Nan, but keep fucking getting distracted. I wasn't lying when I said I rub it out to her. I know, I know, I'm an asshole, or a prick, or whatever, but she just does it for me. Even when I'm pissed off at her.

All I have to do is get to thinking about all the times we had sex and my dick's up and at-'em like a minuteman. Especially the times when she initiated it. I know she's probably given Dwight the impression that she just came when called, but her and I both know the truth. I'd be lying if I said the thought of her lying to Dwight about it didn't get me even hotter.

Nan was different from my other wives. The sex we had was more fulfilling. I don't know why, it just was. She got aroused before I stuck it in her, unlike the others who only started getting their rocks off after the fact. She wanted me. She even said so that time I fucked her from behind against the bathroom sink.

"Fuck!"

I thought that would get me going, but it didn't. It usually does. That and the time she knocked on my door in just her lingerie and silk robe. I knew she was up to something, but she looked so damn good. She had just taken a bath, so she smelled good and her skin was glowing from the steam. She had her hair up in a disheveled bun; that fucking minx knew what she was doing.

Everyone thinks Nan's so soft and damsely, but I fucking know better. She's one artful bitch when wants to be.

Still, I didn't care that she used her sex appeal to wind down how angry I would've been about that tattoo. She let me push her down on the bed and I saw how she got turned on. She put her arms around me and looked me in the eyes before I kissed her lips. She moaned when I put my lips on her neck.

Maybe that was the thing about Nan. Not the sneaky fucking tactics, but the way she was when we had sex. She wanted me, or...she made me feel wanted, if there's a difference, which I think there fucking is.

I squeeze my eyes tighter, giving my head a swift wag to shake the fucking image of me putting my mouth on her neck in that fucked up nightmare. It's fucking weaving itself into everything else. Soon I'll get to thinking about how I broke her hand or how I ignored her calls for help when her water broke and she couldn't get out because I had locked her in her room.

What sort of fucking asshole does that? Who ignores their pregnant wife's needs because they're too busy anger fucking their other wives?

"No, come on," I entice myself, picking up the pace a little more, "Fucking knock it off."

I had to lock her in to keep her from running. I laid down the rules and she fucking broke 'em, so she had to pay the price like everyone else.

Her crying on the bed as one of the wives takes the baby out of the room rears up and I have to shake my head again to try to get it out of my head.

That dream doesn't end there. I had it again the other night, only this time, I purposely finish in her and after that she's on that leather couch that was in my room, holding the baby with a composed smile on her face.

That's the most fucked up thing about the second half; here I fucking assaulted her and emptied into her with the sick design of getting her pregnant again, and she's keeping herself together so the baby will be calm in her arms. When I woke up from the dream, I got sick in my bedpan.

What's worse is I think I got turned on by seeing her with the baby because I woke up with wood.

That's usually the second thing that gets me going. Picturing Nan when she was pregnant with our daughter. She was ten times more attractive when she was pregnant. I'm sure it has something to do with that whole pregnancy glow thing as well as some virile pride in me. Same thing went and goes for her breastfeeding.

I think about her breastfeeding Birdie, while trying to compel me not name her after Lucille. My head also brings up our last conversation and that fucking does it.

I exhale as I feel my dick go limp in my hand. "Goddamnit."

I put myself back into my jumpsuit and button that part up, pissed. I sit back down on my cot and run my hands over my face.

My head starts to hurt. I think I might have a fracture. It's been about three months since I did it, but I still get headaches and sometimes I feel nauseous and punchdrunk.

I'm not gonna say shit to anyone though. They can fuck off with their example of civil obedience. I've got no reason not to kick it; she's not coming back and I'll never know the only blood I've got in this fucking world. I'd get to be with Lucille maybe...

I'll probably be fine though.

…

"Daddy! Daddy!"

I look over as I pour coffee into a mug. "What?"

"I wanna go fissing!" Birdie runs up to me and hugs my legs. "Let's go!"

"Fishing?" I knit my brows for a second, before I remember our conversation three days ago. "Oh, right."

"Let's go, Dad!"

I peer over toward the hall, putting my hand on the handle of the mug. "Uh, let's go wake Mommy up and have breakfast first, before we do anything."

"Okay," She agrees, reaching her hand up, "Here, I take it to her."

"No, it's too hot, I don't want you to burn yourself."

"Okay." She takes off down the hall "Mommy!"

I carry the cup of coffee into our room, where Birdie's sitting on her knees beside Nan on the bed.

"Wake up, Mommy!" She urges.

"I am awake." Nan says with her eyes closed.

"No, you have to open your eyes." Birdie uses her finger to open up one of Nan's eyelids.

Nan smiles into a laugh, gently swatting her hand away. "Stop that, you little creep!"

Birdie cackles. "We're going fissing, Mom."

"Oh, yeah?" She turns to the side and props her head up. "Says who?"

"Me," She claims, before pointing over to me," "And Daddy."

Nan brings her gaze my way. "Oh?"

"Yeah." Birdie plays with a piece of Nan's bangs.

I walk in and set the coffee down on her nightstand. "Mornin'."

"Morning," She keeps her eyes on me, "Did you tell this girl here she was going fishing?"

"I told her we'd come get you for breakfast, then see."

"We're gonna catch lots of fish, Mommy," Birdie chimes in, "And eat 'em."

Nan smiles at her. "Go wash your hands for breakfast."

Birdie looks down at her hands, then sniffs them. "They're clean."

"Listen to your mother," I tell her, "Go wash up."

"Okay." Birdie climbs off the bed and runs out of the room to the bathroom down the hall.

I turn to look back at Nan, but she's already out of bed with the coffee.

"She really wants to go, Nan."

"I don't want her going out past the barriers," She sets the mug down on top of the dresser, "Not until we know who burned your grandpa's cabin down."

"It wasn't my grandpa's place," I remind her as if it matters, "And it's been three months. I've kept an eye on things, honey, there's no one out there."

"Someone burned the cabin down."

"Yeah, well whoever it was probably migrated in a different direction. They're gone."

"I don't want her going past the barriers." She repeats as she walks into the bathroom.

I scoff under my breath, following. I scratch my head as I make it to the frame. "So, that's it? End of conversation?"

"For now, yes," She puts her hands on her hips after she's turned around, "I was coming in here to pee."

I step back and shift around, bringing the door to a near close with me. "Well, I think you're being paranoid about this whole thing."

"I don't want to discuss it anymore, Dwight." Her voice echoes.

"Well, I do," I wait for the steam to end and a flush, before I open the door again, "I'm going fishing and I want to take Birdie."

Nan looks at me from the mirror as she washes her hands. "And I said no. She doesn't know how to swim and we don't know who's out there."

"You're not the only one who gets to call the shots," I argue back, "She's my daughter, too. We won't be on the water and I'll be watching her every second of the day."

Nan turns and is about retort, but Birdie comes running back in.

"I cleaned my hands!" She shows us her wet hands. "Let's go eat, Daddy. I wanna go fissing."

"Sorry, baby, Mommy said no."

"Aw!" Birdie whines. "I wanna go, Daddy!"

"I know you do, but Mommy needs your help with chores."

Birdie starts to cry. "I don't want to do chores!"

Nan looks at me. "You can go, baby."

Birdies sniffs, calming herself. "I can?"

"Yeah," She pulls the daggers off me and smiles plainly at Birdie, "You can go."

"Yay!" She cheers, putting her fist up to me. "Poun' it!"

I pound it and she goes out of the room yelling; "We're going fissing!"

I glance back at Nan who's drying her hands. I realize I made her the bad guy without meaning to and now I feel bad. "Nan-"

"Have fun fishing," She strides past me, shoving me the hand towel, "I'll be here with the chickens and the chores."

"Come with us," I suggest, "We'll pack lunch. It'll be nice."

"I don't feel well," She sighs, touching her forehead, "I'm gonna skip breakfast, I feel like I could throw up."

I look her over, wringing my hands, "You aren't pregnant, right?"

Nan scoffs. "No, I am not pregnant. I just finished my cycle two days ago, so wipe the sweat off your brow."

I huff, "What is your-"

"Daddy!"

I peer down the hallway. "Yeah?"

"I need water!" Birdie calls. "I'm thursty!"

"Alright, I'm coming." I look back to Nan but she's got her back turned as she puts her bra on, so I decide to drop the argument and leave the room.

In the kitchen, I get Birdie some water and make her some scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast. I make us some sandwiches while eating my breakfast on the counter. I make Nan one too, hoping she'll change her mind about not going. But she doesn't.

Birdie and I leave the house right after breakfast in the truck. I know we need to save on gas, but the river's not more than five miles from here and I figured Nan would appreciate it, if I had the truck in case the place gets overrun by walkers.

Birdie does fine in the car, she mostly talked my ear off about either fishing, or asked random kid questions.

She got a little nervous when we reached the barriers, because some dead had gotten themselves caught on the spikes. She didn't want me to leave the car when I started to get out to move the barriers so we could pass.

I killed the three or four that still snarled and tried to grab at me, before I move the one log aside. It's not the most foolproof security system, but it's worked on top of the redirect since we finished 'em two months ago.

We park at the bank I usually go to when I come to fish. It's nice and has soft, lazy grass where I can lay out the blanket for Birdie to sit on when she gets bored. She's really eager to fish, but I know my daughter well enough to know that she'll get bored after the first fifteen minutes of fruitless silence.

It is fun to teach her how to fish though. She winces as I bait the hook with a worm. I think her favorite part was getting to hold onto the fishing pole as we move together to cast the line out. Her least favorite part is probably having to be quiet to not scare the fish away; I doubt we'll catch anything.

I found a tube of sunscreen in the knapsack I packed and I know Nan was the one who put it there. She probably figured I'd forget to pack it, but I didn't, because I know we have another tube in the glove compartment. Birdie hates putting on sunscreen, because she doesn't like the smell or sticky feeling it leaves behind, but I make her put it on anyway. I don't need Nan to have some wiggle room for an I-told-you-so.

As we sit in wait, I on the log, staring out at the water, and Birdie in front of the log, looking at pebbles, twigs, and leaves on the ground; my mind goes back to this morning. I know Nan said she wasn't feel good, but I wonder why she was in such a bad mood. I mean, maybe it wasn't a bad mood exactly, but she was definitely off.

I guess it didn't help that I made her look like the mean mom who wanted Birdie to stay home and do chores. I didn't mean for it to sound like that. Nan can sometimes be more of the sterner parent, hence why she thought she had the final word this morning, but I'm Birdie's parent, too and I have just as much right to decide what's best. Besides, I took her fishing, not out to do redirect.

"Daddy, look!" Birdie holds up a twig with a pill bug crawling along it.

"Sh, Bird, you'll scare the fish." I whisper.

"I caught 'im," She smiles, looking at the bug, "He walked on my twrap."

"Play nice, okay?"

"Hi, fella." Birdie says to the rollie-pollie.

I snicker, before returning my eyes back to the water. I also return back to the argument this morning, still trying to figure it out. Nan and I bicker here and there, but it's usually obvious over what. I can't help but feel like taking Birdie out past the barriers was just the surface.

"Oh, no!" Birdie whimpers.

I glance over. "What?"

"I hurt him!" She gets tears in her eyes. "I made him dead."

I knit my brows, moving my eyes towards the black ball on the ground. "He's not dead."

"He is dead." Birdie sniffs. "I made him dead, Daddy."

"No, baby, he's fine," I pet her head, "He's just curled up in a ball. Oh, see?"

The pillbug opens itself back up, wiggling it's many legs while trying to get itself off it's back.

"See? You didn't kill him, he was just hiding."

"Hiding?" Birdie watches him starts to go on his way.

"Yeah, you were probably just buggin' him a little too much," I tell her, "He needed a nap."

"Oh...hey, where he going?"

"Home." I shrug.

"To his house?"

"Yeah, to his house." I start to reel in the line to check it.

"To feed his baby lunch?"

I smile, humored. "Maybe."

"Aw, he's a nice daddy."

When I see that the worm is gone, but there's no fish, I exhale. I check my watch for the time. "How about I feed you lunch? You hungry?"

"Yeah."

I get out the food we packed and eat on the log, determined to catch at least one fish for Birdie's first fishing trip, while Birdie sits on the blanket. She ends up falling asleep in the shade after she eats. I really want to catch something, but I don't want to, if she'll miss the chance to help reel it in.

I smile, wishing Nan would've just came with us. She probably would've been okay if she had taken an aspirin. Maybe that was it; maybe I sounded a little callous when I asked if she could be pregnant. She seemed pissed off by that. I didn't mean for it to sound like that either. Plus, it's not likely she'd be pregnant, we haven't had sex in three months. Birdie's been in our bed every night.

But maybe I'm just reading too much into it. Nan and I have been working hard for the past three months trying to sustain ourselves, so we won't have to rely on going into town, so maybe she's just tired. She has been going to bed as soon as Birdie's down every night and sleeping until seven, seven-thirty every morning, which is late for her.

I'm distracted again, but this time a cracking sound. I dart my eyes up towards the woods across the river, where the noise came from. It sounded like a stick or something breaking under a foot. I watch and listen, remembering the gun holstered on my hip. It's quiet and still. I start to slowly reach for the gun, when a bird flies off the ground and into a tree.

I breathe in and out through my nose, relaxing. I decide to pack Birdie up and go home. It's getting a little cold out here and the fish aren't biting.

The drive back is quiet, since Birdie occupies the time looking out the window, trying to keep her eyes open. I have the radio on low as I think about what I should say or do when we get home. I don't want to let this stupid disagreement turn into something unnecessary and drawn out. I hate that. Hell, I'll even apologize for taking Birdie fishing if it it'll make things right.

We finally reach home and I think can smell dinner cooking. I look at the clock on the radio that reads half past three. We walk in through the back door to the kitchen, where we find Nan.

"We're home!" Birdie announces.

"Hey!" Nan smiles bright. "How was it? Did you catch any fish?"

"No, they weren't hungry."

"Oh, no," Nan puts on her over mitts, "I was looking forward to Daddy's fish and chips."

I set down the knapsack and the fishing pole against the counter by the door, curious. The kitchen smells sweet and the counter closest to her has a bunch of bowls, spoons, measuring spoons, and flour.

"Next time." Birdie tells her.

Nan chuckles at her optimism. "Okay, next time."

"I need a baff, Mommy."

"Yeah, I'll say," Nan opens the oven door, "Let me just clean up the kitchen and I'll run the water."

"I can do it, if you're busy," I say to her, "If you want."

"Would you?" She looks over at me in question as she takes out a tray of cookies. "I'm sort of a mess myself."

"Sure," I nod, "Birdie, go pick out some clean clothes."

"Okay!" She goes to her room.

I look Nan over, a little confused at the change in demeanor.

"Thanks, honey." She says, turning off the oven.

"Whatcha makin'?"

"Jam thumbprint cookies," Nan answers, "All we have is apple jam, but it'll still be good."

I nod my head again, clearing my throat. "You feelin' better?"

"Yeah, I think I've just been oversleeping lately and it's been getting me into a little funk," She replies, taking off the mitts with a breath, "I took an asprin, drank some water, had a hot bath and felt better in an hour."

"Good…." I rub my thumb along my finger, "Hey, listen, I'm sorry for this morning."

Nan glances over at me.

"I didn't mean to upset you, or….cross a line."

She nods, looking down. "I'm sorry, too. I...I was letting how crummy I've been feeling affect my judgement. You were looking after her, of course I had nothing worry about."

I smile a little, appreciative.

"Let me make it up to you; let me make dinner tonight."

"No, don't worry about it," I shake my head, "It's my night."

"Let me do it," She insists, "As an apology."

"You don't have to, we both already apologized."

Nan smiles. "I wanna make dinner tonight."

"Okay, if you're gonna twist my arm about it," I walk forward to go find Birdie, "You can make dinner."

She chuckles quietly, stopping me with a hand on my stomach. "Maybe after dinner, I'll put Birdie to bed in her room and…"

My eyes meet hers.

She bites the corner of her smile. "Maybe we can finally have the bed to ourselves again."

A small smile inches on my face as I huff. Before I can reply, the sound of water running draws both our attention.

"Birdie?"

"I'm starting the baff!" She calls back.

"Turn it off and wait for me!" I tell her.

"Okay." She says, but the water is still on.

"Now, Birdie!"

"I can't reach it!"

"Alright, I'm coming," I reply, "Stand over by the sink."

Nan snickers. "Bet me she's still standing by the sink and not the tub."

I look back at her and start to snicker with her. "I'm not gonna set myself up to lose."

…

Nan made scalloped potatoes and venison meatloaf for dinner with some fresh baked bread and butter. It sort of seemed like she was trying to apologize to Birdie, since Birdie loves her meatloaf and anything to do with either potatoes or bread. But she knows it's one of my favorite meals, so I think that's why she made it.

She pours some powdered milk for the cookies, which were delicious. Birdie spilled her glass of milk and then thinks she needs another bath because it spilled in her lap.

It takes some work, but Nan convinces Birdie to break the three month streak of sleeping in our room and sleep in her bed for the night, or at least until she wakes up. It takes about twenty minutes for her to get her to bed. I overhear her reading and singing quietly from our room after I showered.

Around eight-thirty, Nan comes into our room with a soft smile on her face. I look up from the book I'm trying to read and set it down as she treads over to the bed. She slips off her clothes standing on her side, until she's just down to her bra and underwear, which I now see are the one rosy lingerie pair that she has.

She gets under the covers, inching herself close to me. "The baby's asleep."

"Yeah?" My eyes trail down and back up to her eyes.

Nan nods very slightly, before she breathes and puts her hand on my face. She leans over and kisses me and I kiss her back, slow. She deepens the kiss and its potent. I can feel myself start to harden already. It's been three months.

I put my hand on the curve of her body before her hip. She places her other hand on the other side of my face, softly moaning into my mouth. Nan moves, pivoting her knee between my legs and grazing my cock.

I touch the small of her back, encouraging her. She grabs my shirt and starts to lean back and I follow her, climbing over her as she lays on her back. Her hands roam up, back to my face and then through my hair, and then finally her arms around connect around the back of my neck.

When we finally break for air, she smiles up at me with a soft, wanton breathlessness. I smile back; she's beautiful. I know I say it all the the time, but it's the truth. She's beautiful and I love her. I lean down to kiss her.

In the middle of the movement, comes a knock on the front door.

* * *

 **Bit of a shortish chapter, but I had a little brain fog this week. Still hope you all enjoy, thanks for reading!**

 **HellToTheNo123: I want Negan to see Birdie someday again, too. I think he'd be good dad, if given the chance.**

 **Kara315: Yeah, I agree, Negan's actions have consequences. I think he ever got to see Birdie again, he definitely won't take it for granted. I don't know if Dwight would have romantic feelings for Sherry, but she may want to rekindle things….**

 **CLTex: Negan being haunted by his past and current treatment of Nan is appropriate and will hopefully shape his future treatment of her. Glad you like their domestic life!**

 **StTudnoBright: Michonne definitely isn't gonna let Negan turn his mistreatment of anyone on them. I think it is up in the air about Maggie finding out about Negan's daughter, reaction wise.**


	6. Chapter 6

Nan stares up at me and I peer down at her in shared silence. Another knock sounds.

"Dwight." She mouths.

I get off her and out of bed. I go over to my nightstand, where a gun sits in the drawer.

Nan sits up in the bed. "D, Birdie."

I notice the sound of Birdie's bedroom door creaking open. I turn and glance down the hall. I quietly, but swiftly go out of the room and into the hall, snatching Birdie up and treading back to the bedroom.

"Daddy."

"Shh." I hand her over to Nan. "I'll be right back."

"Dwight!" Nan whispers sharply, holding onto Birdie.

I put my finger up to my lips. Before I trod out of the room. There's a third round of knocking as I move back down the hall again with my back closest to the wall. After peering over the corner, I approach the door.

I look through the peephole and make out two figures on the dark porch. I step away from the door to the wall. The floorboard makes a creak and I curse under my breath.

"Hello?" A voice calls outside. It's a man. "Hello?"

I can feel my breath pick up adrenaline, though I keep it quiet and steady as I can. There's another knock.

"We know you're home," The man says, "We don't mean any harm, we're just looking for shelter."

"Look somewhere else!" I yell back.

"Please, we need water and food!" He replies. "Our friend has a fever!"

The voice sounds desperate, believable, but it's also the oldest trick in the book. And I can't, not with the girls here.

"Please, that's all we ask!"

"I...I can't!" I tell him. "Leave now!"

I hear him curse. "Look, I know you've got a daughter and I get you don't want to risk her safety, but please, all we need is a little water and medicine. You don't even have to spare a crumb."

"Nate, we tried, he won't let us in." A softer voice speaks.

"No, I can't just give up," The man argues, "Aimee has a high fever, I can't leave without something."

I take the safety off the gun. It doesn't sound like he's gonna leave. I lick my lip and take a breath.

"Dwight!"

I look over and see Nan. I furrow my brows. "What are you doing? Where's Birdie?"

"Open the door." She says.

"What?"

"Open the door to them," She repeats, "I know them."

I deepen my furrow. "Wh-"

"I know them!" She goes to the door.

"Nan!" I put my arm out to stop her.

She looks through the hole, then starts to unlock the door. "I know them, Dwight!"

"What?" I try to stop her from opening the door. "Nan!"

She opens the door and stares out. Almost speechless. I open the door all the way with my gun pointed, but I find the people are staring back at her. I look to her, confused.

"Nan?" The man whose voice I heard says, which makes me turn my gaze towards him.

"Nate?" She breathes out, before looking over to the woman. "Isobel?"

"Oh my god!" The woman comes toward her.

"Hey, hey!" I push Nan back behind me. "Step back!"

"Dwight, stop!" Nan touches my arm to try and move it down. "I know them! I know these people!" She moves past me.

"I can't believe it," The man looks her over, surprised, "Y-you're alive."

"Yeah," Nan nods, "I am and so are you."

The woman embraces Nan and Nan brings her arms up. "It's so good to see you!"

"Yeah, it's good to see you, too." Nan tells her, before she parts from the hug. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"I know, the last time we saw you, you were heading towards Ohio after…" She smiles sympathetically, "You know."

Nan nods soberly. "Yeah, I got turned around and wound up here."

"Well, I'm so glad you're alive...and okay."

"Same to you," Nan looks over at me, "This is Dwight. Dwight, this is Nate and Isobel. We met after the change."

"Uh, hi." I say, still bewildered.

"Nice to meet you." Nate glancing me over.

"Likewise."

"Hi." Isobel smiles.

"Are you alone?" Nan asks them. "Where's Kit?"

"Oh, he's back with the others," Isobel replies, "We need medicine, Nan. Aimee's got a fever of a hundred and two."

"Aimee?" Nan seems familiar. "Um, we have some medicine that might help. Where's she at?"

"We've got her and the rest back in a house down the road."

"Well, bring her here."

"Thank you so much!" Isobel steps back off the porch, touching Nate's arm. "Come on, let's go get 'em."

The two strangers who apparently aren't strangers head off in a jog towards down the street in the dark. I shut the door.

"We have asprin, Nan." I finally speak.

"Well, the nearest doctor is two hours away," Nan walks down the hall, "Besides, it's only a hundred and two."

"Where are you going?"

"To check on Birdie."

I lock the door and follow her back to our bedroom. There, I walk in on Nan helping Birdie out of from under the bed.

"It's alright," Nan holds her to her, "It was just Mommy's friends at the door."

"Your friends?"

"Yeah, don't be scared, okay?"

"Okay." Birdie says quietly.

"How did you know it was them?" I inquire.

Nan peels back the blankets to lay Birdie down in our bed. "I heard their voices from back here."

I huff, putting a hand on the door frame. "And so you just open the door to 'em?"

She moves some of Birdie's hair from her face. "I know them."

"You knew them," I counter, "They could be different than when you last saw them."

"They didn't seem to be."

"Yeah, well…." I exhale when I hear them knocking at the door again.

"You want me to get it?"

"No, no, I got it," I tell her, "Stay with Birdie."

Before I go back to the door, I grab a duffle bag we keep on the shelf in the closet. At the door, I check the peephole and open the door. There's a total of ten people at the door, one of which is a kid and another is leaning on an older man.

"Um, you can sit her in here," I motion my gun in the direction of the living room. They all go to move. "But, I want your weapons left here at the door."

"Is he serious?" A man asks, looking to Nate. "You said you knew-"

"You're not coming in with your weapons."

"That's fine," Isobel undoes a belt with a gun holstered along with a knife, "Guys, Aimee needs their meds. Do as he says."

Everyone disarms themselves, leaving their guns, knives, etc. in the duffle bag in the entryway. I nod when I'm satisfied, titling my head towards the living room.

"Thank you." Isobel says, helping the older man with the woman who's drenched in sweat.

I stand aside, reluctantly, letting these people into my house. A younger woman is one of the last to come in. Her eyes search the house as she pauses by me.

"Where's Nan?"

I meet her eyes. "She's in the back of the house."

The girl starts, but I stop her, shaking my head. "No. You're staying with your people."

"B-but you don't understand, I'm-"

"I don't care," I cut her off, "You stay with your people, or I make you all leave right now."

She scans my face, mouth open as if she still wants to plead her case. But she brings her lips together, putting it to rest.

"Elizabeth?"

I look over at the sound of Nan's breathless voice. Her face is almost pale, like she's seen a ghost.

"Honey," I call her, frustrated, "Go-"

"Nan!" The girl's voice cracks.

Nan moves past me and hugs the girl tightly. The young woman starts to cry. It isn't until they break the embrace that I see that Nan's also in tears.

She touches the girl's face. "I can't believe you're alive! We searched for you for days!"

"I ran south," The girl cries, "I was holding up in a factory for months until Nate found me while scavenging!"

"I blamed myself!" Nan sobs. "I lost you!"

"No, we had to hit the woods, it wasn't your fault!"

I look between them and the people in the living room. Is this a fucking dream? I feel like I don't know what's going on, even though I'm right here.

Nan sniffs, laughing with the girl. She wipes her tears from her face, before hugging her again.

"Nan," Isobel calls at the archway, "Sorry to interrupt, but we need meds, if you've got 'em."

"Oh, of course," Nan looks over at me, "D."

I walk to our bedroom for the third or fourth time to get pick through the medicine we store in the bathroom. The baby's asleep in our bed, so I'm quiet. I get some maximum strength aspirin and a rag to soak in lukewarm water. We got meds, but not really anything aside from aspirin to bring down a fever.

Going down the hall, I overhear someone say they think the sick woman fell ill from trudging through a river at night to avoid walkers.

I return and give them what I have. I stand in the background and observe. All but the kid, a woman with part of her head shaved, and the guy who didn't want to give up his weapons, appear to know Nan.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't pissed that she let them in. I get that she knew them, but people change and nowadays it's not usually for the better. I gather up their weapons and take them to the closet in our bedroom. I put a lock on it, so I can store my bow, our shotgun and our ammo without Birdie accidentally getting in there. We use the closet in the hall for all our coats and what not.

When the sick one is resting and cared for, Nan offers the rest hot oatmeal and water. She has a plain smile on her face as she listens to them and catches up. Despite not liking her letting them in, it does make me smile a little to see her happy to see these people, especially that woman. They must have been close.

She turns her head my way at one point, but while she's still smiling, I lower mine. I can see the anger behind her eyes.

After about three hours into the night, Nan has them all settled in the living room. She goes into the kitchen and warms up some powdered milk. Apparently Birdie asked for some, hence why she came out of our room.

But Birdie's fast asleep, snuggled up to her toy lamb and for some reason her duck block. I lock the door behind us. I sigh, tired, as I sit down on the bed. I doubt I'll sleep tonight. Nan takes the glass into the bathroom and pours the milk down the drain, rinsing it out with water.

"Think her fever will go down?"

"Hopefully." Nan's voice bounces off the tile in the bathroom. She sets the glass on the counter and turns off the light in the bathroom.

I rub the back of my neck. "Um...who was the one woman?"

"Which one?"

"...The one you were talking to by the front door."

"Oh," She puts her hair up in a ponytail, "That was Elizabeth...She's Charlie's younger sister."

"Oh...you never mentioned her before."

"I thought she was dead."

Nan reaches under her shirt to unhook her bra. When she pulls out the delicate bra, I'm reminded that we were just about to have sex before our guests came knocking.

"I guess we have to postpone our alone time, huh?"

She doesn't answer. She fishes out a pair of underwear from the drawers and goes to the bathroom. She comes back a few seconds later with the matching panties in her hand. Nan scoops up the bra and shoves them in the drawer.

I watch her come to bed. Birdie's taking up her side of the bed. "You want me to move her to the middle?"

"Please."

I bring Birdie closer my way until she's in the middle. Her brows gather as I do and she lets out a little groan. I shush her softly, kissing her forehead, and her brows relax.

Nan lays down and turns her head towards Birdie. She looks her over, then her eyes meet mine. When they do, I see that look on her face, before she moves her head forward, looking up the ceiling and then closing her eyes with a sigh.

…

This morning I open my eyes to the sound of the keys sliding into the lock, turning the fucking bolt, and the door to the terrace opening. I know it's Nora bringing in breakfast.

"Morning." She says in her cordial, curt way.

I've got my back to her. I don't say anything, even though I know she knows I'm awake. She sets the tray down on the ground before my cell. The smell is killing me.

I close my eyes, trying to ignore the groaning in my stomach. It's easy enough to do; there's lub-dub pounding in my head. There's something wrong with me.

"It's wash day," Nora says, "Rick will be by later today."

I don't reply.

She sighs. "I'll be back in an hour."

I listen to her leave, before I open my eyes again. I roll over to my back, looking up at the tally marks I lost track of. I pull out the photo of Birdie. My eyes glance at her, even though my sight is heavy and it's a little hard to focus at it this close. She's a beauty, I know that much from memory. At least, I think it's from memory; my head's a little foggy.

My stomach growls again. I tuck the picture back and close my eyes. It's easier to sleep through the meals. Hell, it's easier to just to sleep period.

 **...**

"Come on," I hold her hand, "Don't be shy. Come meet Mommy's friends."

Birdie's not normally shy, but I think the whole unexpected knocking late last night sort of threw her little confidence. She looks with big, unsure eyes as we walk down the hall to the kitchen.

Isobel and Lizzie are in the kitchen, making oatmeal for the rest of my former group. Isobel and Nate's son, Kit, which, if I recall, is only a nickname for Christopher, is also in there at the table. He'll be five in March.

Nate's having coffee with the others in the living room. I know most of them; Dan, Aimee, Shawna, and Harris. Troy and Ryanne, I don't know.

Lizzie sees us first and her expression drops in awe. "Oh, my..."

Isobel looks over at Birdie. "Oh, Nan, she's adorable!"

I smile, looking down at Birdie. "Can you say good morning?"

"G'morning." Birdie murmurs, touching the back of my leg, as if to hide behind me.

"Good morning!" Isobel smiles at her. "Are you Birdie?"

"Yeah." Birdie answers.

"Hi, I'm Isobel!" She holds out her hand.

Birdie shakes her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Isobel chuckles. "Nice to meet you, too," She looks over at her son, "Kit, come here, honey. Come meet Birdie."

Kit gets off the chair and walks over. "Hi."

"Hi." Birdie greets back, putting her hand out. "You can shake my hand."

He extends his hand and shakes hers.

I pick my gaze up to Elizabeth. She seems to be both smiling and trying not to cry. I take Birdie over to her.

"This is Elizabeth," I tell Birdie, "She's...Mommy's sister."

"Sister?" Birdie inquires. "You have the same mommy?"

"No, but, she's..." I smile at Lizzie, "She's family."

Lizzie smiles back at me.

"Is she my sister?"

"No, silly, she's like your aunt."

"Ants are cute."

Lizzie laughs. "You're cute."

"Shake." Birdie offers her her hand.

"Nice to meet you," Elizabeth looks over at me, "She looks just like you."

I smile, before my eyes catch a glimpse of Dwight coming into the kitchen. I lower my gaze. "Um, let me go collect some eggs. You guys need more than just oatmeal."

"I'll give you a hand," Dwight clears his throat, "Birdie go get a jacket; it's cold this morning."

"'Kay." Birdie runs to her room.

I tuck some hair behind my ear and go to the hall closet to get a jacket of my own. The three of us go out to the coop to gather the eggs and feed the chickens. The rooster tries to chase off Dwight, then flies up to the top of the coop to keep an eye on him.

"You're very good at laying us eggs." Birdie tells one of the chickens.

Dwight and I work quietly. I collect the eggs, he scatters the feed on the ground. I want to look over towards the house, but I'm nervous that someone might be watching us from inside. And when I think about that exact notion, of there being people watching us, I feel myself get angry.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Are they gonna live here now?"

"No," Dwight shakes his head, "They're not. They're just taking care of their sick friend right now."

I look over at him as I place an egg in the basket.

"Mommy, I don't wanna share my stuff with that boy, okay?"

I redirect my gaze to hers. "Birdie, remember what we said about sharing? What do we say?"

"Sharing's being a good friend," Birdie repeats, petting another chicken, "But he's not my friend. I don't wanna share with him."

"Well, Kit and his parents and their friends are our guests, so we're gonna be gracious hosts," I tell her, "All of us."

Dwight looks my way, then goes back to feeding the chickens. We all go back inside and I make up a couple fried eggs and some scrambled for the kids.

After breakfast, I check on Aimee with Isobel. Her fever has been yo-yoing between a hundred and one and a hundred and two, but she seems to be in good humor. I made her some broth and peppermint tea.

I spend some more time with the people that I survived with for two and a half years, before I decided to take off on my own. There was at least fifteen of us when I had left, I learn about the ones who didn't make it.

The people here now look somewhat different from before, older maybe, but there still seems to be a close, family- like fondness with one another. I almost feel left out, but I smile, glad that they're here. Especially Lizzie.

The two newest additions, whom I guess are only new to me, are Troy and Ryanne, who are brother and sister. Ryanne seems to be friendly enough, whereas Troy seems like he's sitting on a thumbtack.

I told Birdie to play nice with Kit. She asked him if he wanted to color, but I think she's trying to avoid taking him to her room to play, because she's trying to be adamant about not sharing. Like I've said before, she'll let other kids share with her, but she doesn't want to share her things.

Dwight appears to be easing up just a little bit. I can tell he's still on edge. For a minute or two I lose him and I also notice Nate missing, too. I go to look for them and it only takes me about two minutes to find them. And if I wasn't happy before, I sure as hell am not happy now.

…

The water's lukewarm when I step into it, which is fucking annoying. Like he couldn't fucking bother to spend the time to let it heat up a little more. The basin I bathe in is small, so I fucking feel like a goddamn child. One of my hands is cuffed to the bars, so it rubs like hell as I try to wash myself up in the twenty minutes I'm allotted.

But, if I'm being honest, this is the only time of the week I look forward to. I know three days have passed when it's wash day. It makes me feel human to sit in this mild water. The soap is made out of goat's milk and oats, or some shit like that. It's got no smell other than that, but I like it better than that brick of shit they were given me before that made my skin itch like crazy. I think this shit actually keeps me from itching.

"You got three more minutes." Rick tells me, sitting in his chair.

"Yeah." I reply, running the soap along my pit.

"Nora said you weren't eating again."

"Not hungry."

"If this is more shit you're trying to pull, then enough," Rick orders, "We're done with your cries for attention."

I scoff, chuckling below my breath. "I'm sure you are, since you're oh so busy." I cup water in my hand, so I can rinse off the suds. "Thing is, is that lately, I've been sort of wanting to be alone more than vying for your attention."

Rick huffs. "That right?"

"Don't let it break your heart too bad, Rick," I grin a little, "I'm just tired as all."

"Hard to imagine, considering every time I come down here, you're asleep," He checks his watch, "Time's up."

"How's the bridge coming along?"

"It's coming."

"I know what that means." I chuckle. "My people or yours?"

"Stand up," He ignores me, picking up a towel and clean prison clothes, "Kick your clothes out of the cell."

"Toss me the towel." I retort, standing up, bare ass naked with my dick in plain sight. I use to make jokes, but lately I haven't been in the mood.

"Kick the clothes out first," He argues, "Now. Unless you'd rather catch hypothermia."

I snicker quietly as I grab the clothes I had hanging over the side of the tub and drop 'em on the other side. "Has she been by?"

"No, no one's seen 'em in months." He answers, knowing whom I'm referring to.

He drops a towel and fresh clothes on the ground for me to take.

I furrow my brows, looking over at him. "What do you mean no one's seen 'em?"

"She hasn't come in since the last time," Rick clarifies, "Can you blame her?"

"Well, what about the Sanctuary? Have they seen her?"

"I haven't asked," He shrugs, uncuffing me, "Get dressed."

With my hand undone from the bar, I can step out of the basin, so I can dry off and put on the clean suit.

"Has anyone gone to where they are?" I ask him wrapping the towel around my waist.

"Only two people know where they are, but like I said, I haven't asked."

I scoff, "Well, why don't you asked one of those two people to go check in on 'em?"

"I'm sure they're fine," Rick sits back down, "Dwight's got a handle on things and I'm sure Nan's not as helpless as you think."

"Thanks for reminding me that my ex-wife is warming sheets with that backstabbing asshole."

"Ex-wife?" Rick scoffs, amused. "Is that what you call her when you aren't calling her names?"

"That was a private conversation," I grumble, putting on a new pair of whitey-tighties, "And yes, Rick, as a matter of fact I do call the woman I used to be married to my ex-wife."

"She wasn't the only one," He reminds me, "You used a few other women."

"I helped them," I correct, shrugging on a fresh smelling t-shirt, "Took care of them."

"If you hadn't run things the way you did, they wouldn't have needed you to 'take care' of them."

I roll my eyes. "Or they were just gold diggers."

"As far as I know, they're active members of the community," He replies, "One of them is even working on the bridge. Seems like they made the previous choice based on the environment."

I button up my prison jumper. "I never made them do anything they didn't want to do. I never mistreated them. But I didn't ask about them, I asked about Nan."

"And I told you; she hasn't come by."

My head starts to hurt as I feel myself getting even more frustrated than I already am. "Get someone to go out there and check on her and my little girl."

"Put your back to the bars," He sniffs, "Put your hands through."

"Did you hear what I fucking said?"

Rick looks at me. "Did you hear what _I_ said? I said put your back to the bars and put your hands through."

I huff. "You know, I know you and everyone out there hates my fucking guts, but they didn't do anything wrong. Especially not my daughter."

"Put your back-"

"Nan's not a bad person for having my child," I tell him, as I look down, "It was an accident; it's not like she wanted me to knock her up. She spent all of the pregnancy trying to convince herself and everyone else that the baby was Dwight's and not mine."

"Why do think she did that?" Rick asks, reading my face.

I poke my tongue in my cheek. "Just fucking do it. Please. Not for me, for my family's sake. I just want to know they're safe. You can understand that, can't you?"

I walk to the bars and turn, putting my hands behind my back and through the bars. Rick comes up and cuffs me. I wince at how tight he gets 'em, as well the stabbing feeling in my head. It makes me nauseous. That or the idea of her and the baby being dead somewhere. I exhale, shake my head a little at that fucked up thought; I didn't mean to think it. My head is both heavy and light at the same time.

"Hurry up, will ya?" I tell Rick.

Rick unlocks the cell door and steps in to get the basin. I watch him and he looks me face to face, eye to eye. Odd as it sounds, I look forward to these moments when there's not bars between us, even if I'm pinned to the cell. It's brief; he takes hold of the tub and drags it with all his might out of the cell. My dirty ass bath water splashes a little on him and I smirk a little. I pissed in it.

When he's out of sight, I glance up at the tally marks on the wall across the room. How long as it been since she's come by? How long has it been since anyone's seen her? I need to know.

My sight starts to blur and my eyes water. "Wait, bring back the clothes I was wearing."

Rick say nothing as he continues to pull the tub towards the door.

"My baby's picture is in there."

Nothing.

"Hey!" My head hits the bars as it tips back. "You fucking hear me? I said to bring…" I fight to keep my eyes open. "My baby back."

My body goes loose and the last thing I see is ceiling, before my eyes roll back.

…

Nan's guests are up before we are in the morning. Two mornings ago, I woke up to the sound of talking and for a split second, I forgot about them and sprung up in bed. I remembered almost immediately and I sighed, still not too keen on the idea.

I know I must come off like an asshole. It's not that I don't want to help people, it's just that we're alone out here and I've got to look after my girls.

I look over at them in the bed. Birdie wormed her way closer to my side of the bed, which would explain why my leg was hanging over. Nan's laying her head on her folded arm.

Birdie breathes, clutching her hand open and close. "Daddy?"

"I'm right here." I pat her ankle.

"I'm cold."

I smile, getting out of bed and folding the blanket over her. I kiss her head, before I walk to the bathroom. When I exit, Birdie's rolled the other way and is cuddled up with Nan. Nan's awake, gently fiddling with Birdie's hair with her fingers.

I go to the dresser to get a clean shirt. "You want coffee?"

"Yes, please." She says back with a soft voice.

I peek over as I put my shirt on. Maybe she's not mad. I get dressed, putting on my pants and belt. I fasten on my knife.

"You aren't gonna go out there with your knife, are you?"

I turn. "Uh, yeah, I am."

"Can you not?" Nan asks, apprehensive.

My eyes glance briefly towards the door, before back to her. "But I always carry my knife."

"Yeah, but you took their weapons, D," She mildly argues, "I don't want them to feel on edge with you."

"They knocked on our door late at night," I simply reply, "If it were the other way around, they would've had us do the same thing."

"Maybe, but-"

"But?" I look at her.

She stares back. "Nothing."

I slowly start to nod, looking down. She's mad. I sigh through my nose. "I'll be back with some coffee."

I unlock the door and go out towards the kitchen. The chatter dies down as I come in.

"Morning." I simply say, going over to the coffee pot where there's just enough for one cup.

"Morning." Isobel replies quietly.

They've been here for about two days. The one woman's fever broke last night, so she's just resting up now.

I fill a ceramic mug with coffee for Nan. She likes it black with a splash of milk, but since we don't have milk, she takes it black.

"Is that for Nan?"

I look over my shoulder. "Uh, yeah. I'm bringing her coffee."

"That's nice," Elizabeth says at the table, "Does she still like it black with a little milk?"

I glance up as I wipe the drops that spilled with a rag. "Yeah, she does."

She chuckles lightly. "The bakery had an espresso machine and she used to have americanos every morning with milk."

"Her grandparents' bakery?"

"Yeah," She says, "Charlie said she would always put money in the register, even though her grandma said she didn't have to pay."

I turn from the counter, looking more directly at her. She has a friendly smile on her face. I leave the kitchen with the cup. I hear light-hearted singing coming from the bedroom. When I open the door, Nan and Birdie are playing pat-a-cake.

"Pat it, roll it, and mark it with a B. Put it in the oven for Birdie and me!" Nan high-fives her. "Good job!"

"Again!"

"Again?" Nan playfully puts the back of her hand to her head. "Oh, but I'm so fatigued. I think I need to lie down."

"No, Mommy, you just waked up."

"Well, I'm ready for a nap already."

"You have to wait 'til we eat lunch." Birdie tells her.

"Oh, alright," Nan gives her a little peck on the nose, "I'll wait 'til after lunch."

She turns her head when she notices me and her vibrant smile softens as her lips come back together.

Birdie springs up on the bed. "G'morning, Daddy!"

"Good morning," I smile at her, closing the door behind me, "Are you supposed to be standing on the bed?"

"Um, no!"

"Why aren't you supposed be standing on the bed?" I come over to Nan's side to hand her her coffee.

"Um...because I'll fall off," Birdie says, "And get a boo-boo."

"That's right," Nan takes her hands, "So, sit, please."

"I not jumping."

"I know you're not jumping on the bed, but you still can't stand on it," She tickles her belly, which makes Birdie buckle, "So, plant your bottom down on this bed this very minute!"

Birdie cackles, throwing her arms around Nan. "Stop tickling me! I have to pee!"

Nan laughs, hugging her and peppering her cheek with kisses. "Are you wet?"

"Um...no."

"You aren't?" She looks at her with an arched brow.

"No."

"You slept the whole night through?"

"Um, yeah."

Nan's smile grows. "Good girl!"

"I have to potty."

"Here," I offer her her coffee, "I got it."

Nan takes the coffee. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I kiss her on the lips. "Come on, Bird."

"I go by myself." Birdie slides off the bed.

"You can go by yourself? How you gonna get up on the toilet seat?"

"Um...climb."

We both laugh at her answer. "You'll fall in."

"Ew!"

"You want my help?"

"Yeah."

I help her up on the toilet and walk to the door, where I have my back turned, so she'll go. I peer over at Nan who's drinking coffee over by the window, looking out it.

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

"How much gas does the truck have?"

I need to move it to the front. "Um, a little less than half. Why?"

She shrugs. "Aimee's fever broke last night. They'll need some place to stay..."

"Done!"

I go back into the bathroom to assist Birdie. "I think you need a stool for the bathroom."

"Yeah." She mildly agrees.

"Yeah, I'm gonna build you one." I turn on the water.

"For just me?" She puts her hands under the flow.

"Yeah, for just you."

"Yay!"

I snicker. "You're cute, you know that?"

"Thank you," Birdie leads out of the bathroom, "Mommy?"

"Yeah, honey?" Nan turns away from the window.

"I peed."

"Oh, thank you for sharing."

"Welcome," Birdie climbs back on the bed, "I need a baff."

"I'll bathe you up tonight, okay?"

"'Kay."

A loud roar of laughter gets Nan and I's attention. When we move our heads back forward, we meet eyes. She treads over to the door.

"Come on, Bird, let's go get breakfast going." She moves past me.

"I don't wanna share my paper, Mom." Birdie gets off the bed and jogs behind her.

"You will be nice and share your paper with Kit."

"No!"

"Then you won't color today." She opens the door. "Come on."

I follow the two a few minutes later, after I make the bed. I lock the door behind me. I haven't given them their weapons back yet.

I go about the day as I normally would. I eat breakfast with my family and our visitors. They're alright, friendly. I've let my guard down more since they've been fairly cooperative with having their weapons stowed away. The only one who has a chip on his shoulder about it is the one who was argumentative about handing 'em over the night they came here. I think his name is Troy.

Nan's been enjoying the company. I can understand; it's just her, Birdie, and I this way. And I think Birdie likes having another kid around, but it's sometimes hard to tell. I think she wants to be in charge of whatever she and Kit do, because she's been the one suggesting everything that they do together and when Kit doesn't want to do something, she gets bratty.

We've had to get on to her few times for telling him that he can't play with her anymore and to go away, or for taking her toys or crayons from him when she's had enough of sharing. She sat in time out, which is a corner in the living room with her arms stubbornly crossed for a solid fifteen minutes yesterday. Usually she's ready to say sorry and behave better after about two, five tops, but that's only because she hates sitting there.

Since I don't have to do redirect as often, I go down and check the barriers. We've got a few walkers, so I discharge them. When the growling has stopped, I take a good look at the barrier. I follow along it, checking for weak spots as well as to make sure that those people didn't fuck up it's integrity when they got past it.

It looks clear to me, so I head back towards the house. The truck's still parked where I left it a few days ago, when I took Birdie fishing. I have the keys in my pocket, so I drive it around to the front.

Nate's across the street out front, smoking a cigarette. He makes a slight nod of the head towards me. I walk over, tucking my hands in my jacket pockets.

"Nice place you got." He tells me, putting the cigarette up to his mouth.

"Thanks," I blandly reply, "Nan have you walk across the street to smoke that?"

"Nah, Iz did," He grins, blowing smoke, "My wife doesn't like smoking."

I nod. "Nan doesn't like it either."

"So, you come here to smoke?"

"No, I ran out about two months ago."

Nate reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wrinkled up pack. "Want one?"

I look at the pack that's got about eight or so inside. I inhale and exhale. I told Nan I'd stop. I take the one protruding out the most. "Thanks."

Nate offers me a light. "She used to not mind all that much."

My lungs pull in the smoke. It feels good. I don't reply until I let it out. "What?"

"Isobel," Nate smiles, "She used to not mind all that much. But then after we had our son, she started getting on my ass about it."

I nod, taking another drag as I stare out at the house.

"Must have been the same way with Nan, huh?" He adds, looking over at me. "'Cause Charlie used to smoke and I never heard her raise hell about it."

I look to him and then down at nothing in thought, nodding slightly.

"But then again, Nan never really raised hell about anything," He holds up the cigarette, "The boldest thing I ever saw her do was walk away from us."

I pick my gaze up. "After he died?"

"Yeah," He exhales, "Poor kid. It really killed her when he went. She couldn't stomach anything for days and she was always on the quiet side, but she hardly spoke to anyone, not even Iz and I afterwards. Then one morning, she packed up her stuff from the camp we made and left without word."

He looks at the cigarette between his fingers. "I tried to convince her to stay, but she iced me out. Said she had to be alone and that she'd be fine. I guess she was right."

I can't help but nod again as I hear what she must have told me before, but what sounds so different coming from someone else. "So, you knew Charlie pretty well then?"

"Yeah," Nate nods his head, "He became like a brother to me." He nods, clearing his throat. "When he got sick, he acted all fine at the start, like he was gonna recover. Said he was gonna ask Nan to marry him when he did...but a day after that, he asked me to look out for her. I had to put him down two mornings after that."

I knit my brows a little. "Nan never mentioned that."

"She didn't know, he never asked her," He tells me, "Guess he figured there was no point if he was gonna die."

Smoke curls from my nose as I exhale. I hear the door open across the street, so my eyes pick up. I see her standing there and I curse under my breath, tasting the smoke on my breath.

"Shit." I drop the cigarette and grind it into the dirt. "I'm gonna head in. It's getting cold out here."

"Yeah, I better do the same." Nate puts his out. "Oh and thanks again. For everything."

"Don't mention it." I start to walk towards the house.

"No, look, I know if it weren't for Nan, you'd have made us shove on."

I pause, looking back.

"I get it, you've got a wife and daughter," He continues, "If it were just me and my family out here, I would've done the same thing."

I nod slowly.

"That's it, I just wanted to say I appreciate you biting your cheek and giving my people a place to stay while one of ours gets well again. We'll be out of your hair soon."

I offer a plain half-smile, before I turn back to the house.

…

"Mommy, I wanna sleep in my room." Birdie presses me while I'm doing the dishes with Lizzie.

"Oh...well, honey, you have to sleep in our bed again tonight."

"No, I wanna sleep in my room!"

This is the first time I think I've ever heard her argue that.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?"

"I don't want Kit in my room."

"He's not in your room, him and his mommy and daddy are sleeping in the living room."

"He'll sneak in my room and play with my toys!" She complains.

"That is a load of baloney that you just made up and you know it," I chuckle, "Go play nice."

"No, I wanna stay here with you. I don't wanna play with him."

"Well, sit and pout in here all you want then. See if Kit cares," I roll my eyes at Lizzie who's snickering, "It's rough being an only child."

"Must be," She chuckles, "She'll melt if you have anymore."

I smile mildly, scrubbing a plate.

"God, she looks so much like you, it's not even funny."

My smile picks up. "That's a good thing, right?"

Lizzie scoffs. "Don't even pretend like you don't know how good looking you are."

"I'm alright," I say with honest opinion, "Birdie'll be beautiful though."

"She'll be beautiful because you're a babe," She dries off the last dish, "Just look at those eyes."

I glance over at her briefly. "You want some tea or something?"

"Sure."

I fill the kettle with water and take it to the stove.

"Remember how Charlie used to joke about keeping you around so he'd have beautiful children."

I do remember that as I flick on the stove. It was a smartass response to something smartass I had said first. I elbowed him in good humor and he laughed while telling me he was kidding.

"Yeah, I remember."

It's funny, it's a good memory, but my stomach hurts a little bit, not amused.

She rests her cheek on her hand, glancing over at Birdie who's entertaining herself with a mixing bowl. "It's so strange seeing you like this; a mom, I mean."

I smile, sitting down at the table.

"So, has it been just you and Dwight for awhile, or were there others?"

"It's always been just Dwight and I here," I tell her, "And Birdie. We moved here not long after she was born."

"Oh, so you lived somewhere else?"

"Yeah, about two hours east."

"Were there others?"

My eyes pick up. "Um, yeah."

I must admit, I feel a little hesitant to tell them about the other communities. This morning, I had half a notion of offering to drive them there, but after some thought, I decided not to. It's not that I mean to keep them from going there, but I am worried about the eventual knowledge that my friends would gain about Dwight and I.

"Can I ask you something?"

I blink, focusing back on her. "What is it?"

Lizzie glances over her shoulder, before leaning in. "What happened to his face?"

"Dwight's?"

"Yeah," She whispers with a nod, "If you don't mind me asking."

I shake my head slightly. "He was burned."

"By a person?" Her eyes widen.

"Yeah." I nod my head, looking over at Birdie. "Honey, go play with Kit, please. Don't be rude."

Birdie lifts the bowl off her head. "I not rude!"

"Well, you're not being very nice to your guest," I say to her, "He's not done anything to you."

"He broke my crayon."

"It was an accident and it's still perfectly usable," I reply, "And he said he was sorry."

Birdie knit her brows, stubborn as an ox. "I'm mad 'bout it still."

"If you play with him for a little while, just until bedtime, I'll...let you sleep in your room tonight."

"Mmm...no, I sleep in your room." She gets up from off the kitchen floor.

"Where you going?"

"To go play with Kit." She answers, going to the living room.

"Thank you." I say, before looking at Lizzie and smiling at her humored smile.

Later on this evening, when everyone's settling down for bed. I bathe Birdie in our bathtub, since the one she usually bathes in is occupied. Dwight comes back from his nightly perimeter walk right as I'm combing the tangles out of her dried hair on our bed.

"Daddy!"

"Hey, did you just get out of the bath?"

"Yeah," Birdie lifts her foot up, "Smell."

"Let's see," Dwight grabs her foot and sniffs it, making her giggle, "Yeah, I don't know, your feet still stink to me."

"No!"

He chuckles, kicking out of his boots. "Yeah, you might have to keep some socks on those puppies, so we don't knock out from the smell."

"They're clean!" She laughs at his teasing. "Huh, Mom?"

I smile, starting to braid her smooth hair. "I don't know, I might have missed a spot."

"No, they smell nice!" Birdie smells her foot. "They're clean, Daddy."

"If you say so," He shrugs, glancing down at all the toys on our floor, "Uh, are you moving in?"

"She doesn't want Kit to sneak into her room tonight and play with her toys." I casually explain to him as if it makes total sense.

"Oh," He looks at me and then her, "Bird, you have to be nice and share with other kids."

"No, I don't want to."

"You're not gonna have any friends, if you aren't being a good friend."

"I'm a good friend!" Birdie retorts, pointing at him. "You don't be mean."

"You think I'm being mean?" Dwight raises a brow at her.

"Yeah!"

He stalks over to the bed. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Birdie tries to stifle a laugh. "You're a mean daddy."

"I'm a mean daddy?" He puts his hands out like claws as he approaches her. "Well, then, I guess, if I'm a mean daddy, then I can just eat you up!"

He tickles her with growl and she falls back laughing and kicking.

"Stop, stop!" She cackles.

Dwight stops tickling her, placing his hands on either side of her. "You think I'm a mean daddy still?"

"Mm...no."

He smirks. "Did you brush your teeth?"

"Yeah, see?" She puts on an awkward smile that displays her little teeth.

"Good job," He chuckles, "Can I have a kiss before you go to bed?"

"Um, let me fink about it." Birdie puts her finger up to her lips, pretending to think. She can be quite the little smartass, but in a cute way. "Okay."

She leans over and peck him on the lips.

"Love you." Dwight tells her.

"Love you," Birdie turns toward me, "Do you wanna kiss, too, Mommy?"

I smile at her. "Of course, I do."

"'Kay." Birdie tilts her head up with her lips pursed.

I snicker as I lean down to kiss her. "Muah!"

"Love you."

"I love you, too." I plant a kiss on her head. "Are we ready for bed now that we've had our goodnight kisses?"

"You and Daddy kiss g'night."

I look over at Dwight, still kneeling by the bed and he stares up at me. I smile faintly at Birdie, before I incline his way. I place a brief, chaste kiss on his lips and then sit up straight.

"Alright," I breathe out, "Are we ready for bed now?"

"Um, yeah," Birdie lays horizontally on her side, resting her head in my leg. "I sleep here, okay?"

"You want to sleep at the foot of the bed?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," I pet her head, "Do you want me to rock you?"

"Um, no. Story."

"You want a story? What story?"

"Wild things."

I nod my head. "Alright." I glance over at Dwight. "Could you get me her book, please? She put it in the bottom drawer."

"Sure." He gets up and retrieves _Where the Wild Things Are_ from the sock drawer.

I read it to until she falls asleep, which happens by the time I read the book twice. I carefully slide myself from under her and lay the blanket that sits at the end of the bed over her. Then, I quietly get undressed, so I can take a quick shower if there's any hot water left. Dwight got in a little over five minutes ago and some of the others were showering a while ago, too.

I pad into the foggy bathroom where the water's still going. "Is it warm?"

Dwight shadowed head turns behind the curtain. "Lukewarm. Won't be for long though."

I curse below my breath. "Are you almost done?"

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute."

I fold my arms across my breasts. Goosebumps raise all over my skin despite the warm steam in the air. "Can I just get in with you?" I ask him. "Before the water turns?"

"If you want."

I step over to the shower and the white veil of curtain. I love this shower curtain; it was my favorite part about the house when Dwight gave us the tour. It's a nice cotton material with little subtle flowers stitched every few inches apart with white thread. The bottom has a braided fringe. It's pretty and dainty and there's something else about it that just makes me love it.

I draw it along with the plastic curtain that keeps the water in to the side so I can step in. My eyes immediately meet Dwight's as I close the curtains. I reach for the cake of soap that sits in the little dish in the corner.

Dwight had told me once that the house was so old that it needed a lot of renovations when he bought it. The tub was one of things that needed to be replaced. There use to be a stand alone tub and once it cracked from years of wear, Dwight had to put in a new tub, and since Sherry wanted there to be a shower too, he had to then tile that portion of the wall so the water wouldn't damage it. He was going to put a space in the wall to add a place for soap, but he forgot, so we have a soap dish in

the corner.

"That was awkward." He says plainly.

I look up from roaming the soap over my legs. "What was?"

"The kiss," Dwight elaborates, "Right before you put Birdie to bed."

"Oh," I blink as mist coming off from the water hitting him sprays my face, "Well...she's seen us kiss before. It was no big deal."

"No, I know that, I meant it felt awkward."

"Oh," I go back to bathing, "Here I thought I was a good kisser. That is embarrassing."

"You are," Dwight tells me, moving wet strands of hair out of his face, "But that kiss...I don't know, it kind of seemed like you didn't want to kiss me."

"Well…" We trade places so I can rinse off, "Maybe that's because...I didn't." I wash my face with the mild water. "It's sort of hard for me when I'm angry."

"...So you are mad?"

"Yes, I am."

I turn so the water can wash the soap from my neck and back. He's got his eyes on me and his hand on the wall with his brows furrowed, puzzled.

He shrugs his shoulders. "Why are you mad? Is it over them?" He motions to the right as if they're all standing right outside the shower."Or….me taking their weapons? Because if it is, I'm not apologizing for that."

I look him over. "It's not about the weapons, but you don't have to be so rude to them. They're my friends."

"I'm not being rude, I'm being cautious," He retorts, "Which is a lot more than I can say about you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I inquire, offended.

"You just opened the door to them the other night, Nan."

"I recognized their voices," I defend my actions, "I heard Isobel call Nate by his name, I knew it was them."

"What if you were mistaken?"

"I...I went out into the hall and listened, before I open the door, Dwight, I was sure."

"Well-"

"I think I would know the voices of people I spent years surviving with."

"Yeah, and that's another thing, you hadn't seen those people in who knows how long and you still just opened up the door," He chides me, "What if they changed? What if they weren't the same friendly people who knew before, huh? What if they just wanted into the house for our shit?"

I stare at him. My cheeks feel warm. I go to move past him. "Let me out."

Dwight steps aside, shutting off the water. "Well?"

I grab a towel off the hook and wrap it around myself. "If they were bad and wanted to break in and kill us and take our supplies, I think they would've done it three months ago when the first came here."

I step out of the shower and Dwight follows.

"What are you talking about?"

"Isobel told me that a few months ago, they found a cabin east from here and they were planning on holding up there, but the place caught fire." I look at him. "She said one of Nate's cigarettes must have not been put out all the way when he flicked it."

Dwight's brows gather and his mouth parts.

"They left and headed back towards a valley south from there," I add, "That's where they were staying, until Nate and Dan discovered you and Birdie by the river."

I go over to the sink and wipe off the fog from the mirror. "They followed you here and then went back to get the others to bring Aimee up."

Dwight closes his mouth, realizing.

"I told you there were people out there and you didn't listen to me," I say, "Or at least you weren't as 'cautious' as you're getting onto me for, because you thought it was her."

His eyes snap up to mine.

I look down, surprisingly guilty feeling. "I'm going to bed."

I put on my underwear and leave the bathroom. I forgot to brush my teeth, but I'm a little too upset and ashamed to go back in now. I pull out a shirt and some shorts to sleep in along with a pair of socks from the bottom drawer.

I don't feel ashamed for telling him how I feel; I'm angry. I don't like being told I put our family danger, in less words than that, when he was the one who led them up here.

I do, however, feel a little bad for saying it was because he thought Sherry was around. We never found her and she's never come back here. He doesn't really bring her up, as if he's accepted that she's gone, whatever that means. Maybe it wasn't right of me to bite at what little hope he has of finding her again.

My body feels like it aches by time I get my socks on. I look at Birdie at the end of the bed. I'm exhausted. I've grown so used to it just being the three of us here that having ten people, friends or not, staying here is too much interaction for one person.

Dwight turns off the light in the bathroom. He's dressed in what he wears to bed. He goes to the light switch by the door and turns off the lights. I subtly watch him come to bed in the dark as I get under the covers.

He climbs into bed, exhaling as he lays down. He usually lays on his back when he sleeps, but tonight he rolls over to his side, facing away from me.

I stare up at the ceiling, wanting to say something, but still too flustered and too irked at myself to do anything other than close my eyes with the sigh of my breath.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Hope you all enjoy**

 **HellToTheNo123: Thank you very much, I appreciate your support!**

 **Kara315: I agree, I think Dwight's adorable as a father. He's sort of a stern character, that I wanted him to have a soft spot for Birdie.**

 **CLTex: I like Negan's attempts to figure out why things were so bad with Nan, while also trying to deny that he was that bad of a husband to her. Yes, Dwight and Nan's relationship is for sure not perfect.**


	7. Chapter 7

I groan as I start to wake up. My head feels like it split in two. This must be what it's like to take a hit from Lucille. I'd laugh if my head wasn't killing me. Fuck, it even hurts to open my eyes. I'm laying down flat on my back on what feels like my hard cot.

The room is lit a little, so it's day time. I touch my head and feel webby gauze. "The fuck is this?"

"It's a bandage."

I turn my head, which proves to be a fucking chore. I see the doctor sitting by the cell.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit with in the head with a baseball bat." I go to sit up, groaning as I do. "Fuck. What the hell happened?"

"You passed out and hit your head on the bars." He stands. "Do you think you'd be able to stand? I'd come in to examine you, but it's just me here. You picked a bad time to wake up."

"I woke up." I counter, wincing as I rise up off the bed. "How long have I been out?"

"Almost a day."

I snicker through my nose. "Is it safe to say you weren't expecting me to wake up alive?"

The doctor follows my gaze to the knife on his belt. He clears his throat. "If you could just come to the bars, I'd like to check for a concussion."

"What else could it be?" I shuffles over in my cold bare feet. "I fucking passed out for no reason."

"Had you sustained any head injuries prior?" Siddiq asks, shining a sharp light in my eyes.

"Might have," I curse at my aching eyes, "That it?"

He lowers the flashlight, clicking it off. "Have you experienced any nausea, dizziness, confusion, ringing in the ears, sensitivity to light or any noises, blurry vision, or memory loss?"

All of it, except for the last one, which is actually the opposite. "Nope. None."

He looks me over. "I'd like to come back to check on you. Make sure you're healing properly."

"Do what you want," I start to go back to the cot, before I remember, "Wait a minute."

The doctor stops by the door. "Yes?"

I turn. "The suit I was wearing before? I need it back."

"Oh, uh, I believe they were gonna wash it."

"No, they can't," I object urgently, touching my eyes in pain, "I...I have a picture, the only picture I have, of my daughter in the front pocket. I need it back."

Siddiq stares at me. He's the only one aside from Prick and Michonne that knows about her. "I'll...see if I can recover it."

"Thank you." I exhale, actually grateful. "Do you know if anyone has seen 'em?"

"Uh, I'm not sure, to be honest with you. I'll ask around."

I nod and he leaves me alone. I sit back down on my bed. That picture is all I got.

…

When I wake up this morning, Birdie's at the foot of my bed for the fourth night in a row. She really likes sleeping down there. The first night, she did crawl up to the middle and snuggled up next to Dwight, but she spent all the other nights at the end, either curled up under the throw, or under the same blankets as Dwight and I.

I don't mind her sleeping there, but it does make it hard every now and then to stretch without putting my foot in her face. Dwight accidentally rolled her off the bed doing so last night. I thought that would have prompted Birdie to stop sleeping there, but she's a determined little thing.

There's coffee on my nightstand, like there usually is. I sit up in bed and take the cup to drink the warm liquid. The shower shuts off a little after. I stay in bed and listen to his stirrings. Aside from that, it's quiet.

Nate, Isobel, Lizzie and the others moved to the house that's about a fourth of a mile down the road since Aimee got better. Nate said the house was a little bigger and would fit the whole of their gang better than our home. He also said it was temporary, since they obviously can't settle there. We've been sharing our provisions with them, which I know we can't do for much longer.

It's been nice to get back to our peaceful mornings.

I smile shyly when he comes from the bathroom. "Morning."

"Mornin'." He replies plainly, walking to the dresser without looking my way.

I bite my lip. "Thank you for the coffee."

"You're welcome."

"...I appreciate it."

"It's no big deal." Dwight clears his throat, putting on his socks.

I rub my thumb as I sit there. Well, it would be nice to get back to our mornings, if we were speaking. I mean, we are speaking, but with cold civility. We haven't exactly reconciled since our argument a few nights ago.

Birdie rolls off her tummy, waking up. "Daddy?"

"Hey," He smiles at her, "You waking up?"

"I'm thirsty."

"Okay, we'll get you some water."

Birdie rises up, rubbing her eye with her knuckle and looking around. "Where's my Wamby?"

I glance over to the floor on my side. "Oh, he fell off the bed."

"Daddy, get him." She rasps, pointing at the lamb.

Dwight picks up the toy and hands it to her. "Here you go, baby."

"Tank you." She cuddles the lamb.

"You wanna go with me to get water?"

"Yeah." Birdie takes his hand and slides off the bed. "C'mon, Mommy."

"I'm coming."

I sigh as they leave. I get out of bed, put on the flannel I stole from Dwight, and go to the kitchen where they are.

"Mommy, Daddy's making oatmeal!"

"He is?" I smile brightly at her. "That's your favorite."

"Yeah!" She tugs on Dwight's shirt. "Daddy, I want berwies."

"I know, I heard you five seconds ago."

"Birdie, come over here," I tell her, holding out my hand, "Let Daddy make breakfast."

"'Kay." She comes over and gets on my lap. She inspects a button on my shirt. "Do you love me?"

"What sort of silly question is that, huh?" I tilt my chin up, which prompts her to peck my lips, which then makes me chuckle. "Of course, I love you. I love you more than anything in the whole wide world."

"More than...the chickens?"

"Absolutely."

She fiddles with the button. "Um, more than...food?

I chuckle. "Yes, more than food."

"More than you?"

I peck her nose. "Yes, more than myself."

"More than Daddy?"

I peek over at Dwight, who isn't looking, but I know he can hear us. I look back at her, smiling. "There's nothing I love more than you, Birdie."

"That's mean, Mommy." She puts her fingers to my lips. "You have to love Daddy."

"Oh, I do love Daddy, honey," I assure her, glancing over at him, "But I love you very, very much in a very special way."

"Because I'm your baby?"

I smile, wrapping my arms around her. "Yeah, because you're my baby."

"Daddy, do you love Mommy?"

Dwight turns to look at her. I can't help but to look at him for the answer along with Birdie. He opens his mouth, but is cut off by someone knocking on our door.

I lower my eyes and then direct them that way. "Must be the neighbors."

Dwight breathes out. "Yeah."

He's especially not happy about sharing them. I think if we had enough to sustain ourselves and them, he wouldn't be so annoyed by it. But, he gives them eggs or what have you when they ask for it, despite thinking we shouldn't. We haven't actually had the conversation, but I know him well enough to know what's on his mind.

"I can get it." I tell him, starting to stand.

"Carry me." Birdie holds onto me.

I smile, shifting her to my hip. "Alright, if you're gonna cling to me like a sloth."

"What's a sloff?"

"It's an animal that likes to cling to tree branches." I say to her as we go to the door.

"I hope it's Lizzie."

"You like her?"

"Yeah, she's nicer than Kit."

"Kit is not mean to you."

"He broke my crayon."

"That was a few days ago, you need to let that one go."

"No!" She touches the tip of my nose.

"Yes, you do." I open the door and turn my head to greet whomever's here. I pause in surprise. It's Hal.

"Hey, Mum."

"Hal!" Birdie cheers his name ecstatically, reaching for him.

"Hey, Pidge!" Hal takes her from me, closing her in a hearty hug. "Are you not the best sight for sore eyes, eh? Did you miss me?"

"Yeah, a very lot," Birdie says to him, "Did you think I got eaten?"

"I did, I thought you're mum and dad got tired of fish and gobbled you up," He plants an adoring kiss on her cheek, before looking at me, "Won't you invite me in?"

I smile, chuckling. "Yes, come in."

He steps in with Birdie and that's when I notice the car he must have driven here parked on the road. I give him a small, endearing hug after I close the door.

"This is a surprise," I say, "The last time you were here was…?"

"When Laura and I came up to help Dwight clean the place up," He glances around the front entryway, "And a fine job we did, if I do say so myself."

I snicker. "You're so modest." I lay eyes on Dwight in the kitchen when we reenter. "Um, Dwight, Hal's here."

Dwight, who can already see that, nods. "Hey."

"Long time, no see." Hal greets back, shaking his hand when it's offered.

"Yeah, what brings you by?"

"Just that," Hal answers, peering over to me, "We've not seen you in nearly four months. Thought I'd come up and make sure you all were alright."

"Yeah, we're doing okay," I inform him, dropping my gaze from Dwight when he looks at me, "We're a little low on some things, but we're okay."

"Lucky you, I brought some food and other crap with me," Hal reports, "Not a lot, but it's something."

"Thank you," I smile, "Would you like some coffee or tea?"

"You gonna spend the night, Hal?" Birdie asks him.

"Afraid not, Pidgeon," He sets her down, "I've got to get back home before sundown."

"Aw!" Birdie groans in disappointment. "I want you to sleep over."

"I would, if I could, love," He rustles her hair, "But someone's got to make sure everyone's minding their manners."

"Is Daryl not there?"

"No, he's still at the bridge," He relays, "So's Laura, which I'm not so sure I like, to be honest."

"Why not?" I ask, handing him some coffee, "Is everything okay?"

He shakes his head. "Apparently, the Saviors are sparring with pretty much everyone else."

"Over what?" Dwight inquires. "I thought things were good."

"Well, according to Laura, the Saviors want their weapons back for protection."

"Protection?" I knit my brows. "What's going on?"

He glances down at Birdie, then back to me. "Saviors have been walking off the site, due to some discrepancies or whatever, but...they've not been making it home."

"What do you mean?" I shrug in question. "Someone's hurting them?"

"We've not found any of 'em so far, but we know they didn't just disappear on their own," Hal sighs, looking into his coffee, "Some of them have families or significant others and I know for sure Neal's wife just had another a baby."

"Rachel?"

"Yeah, another girl," He nods, "So, we know they're not just up and leaving."

"Is there an investigation?"

"No, not really, which is why the Saviors are getting frustrated and want the disarm to end. The bridge is not getting done because of it."

"Is Tonya okay?" I ask him, feeling a little sick with worry. "Or...Keller?"

"Yeah, she's okay and he got injured, so he's back at Sanctuary," Hal sets the mug on the counter, "But Justin got kicked off the site and then never came back."

"Oh." I nod slowly. Is it bad to say I'm not concerned about Justin? I worry about Tonya for obvious reasons and Keller because of Frankie, but Justin's an asshole. But I guess I don't want him dead.

"So, no clue who's taking 'em?" Dwight says, which grabs my attention.

"No, since everyone has beef with the Saviors, because of the past, it's anyone's guess but only our concern."

"But…" I look at Birdie, who's holding Hal's hand, tracing the lines in his palm, "We're supposed to be all working together. Or...you all are."

"I know, but let's face it, the Saviors did a lot of damage for a long time, love. We can't pretend everything was gonna be a hundred percent just because Rick said so."

"But the Saviors were putting in real effort."

It sounds so weird defending them, but that was my community before and I know a lot of people there have turned a new leaf since Negan was brought down.

"I don't know, Nan," He shrugs, "We're trying to find out."

A hard pit forms in my stomach. "Okay."

My worried eyes move to Dwight's, which appear to be watching me.

Hal looks down at his favorite person. He smiles big. "Hey, did you get taller?"

"Yeah?" Birdie tugs on his hand. "Come see!"

"Come see what?"

"Come on, Hal!" Birdie insists.

"Alright, alright."

I follow them out, holding my elbows. Birdie takes Hal to her room, or rather to the doorframe. We've been marking her height every six months. If she's gotten taller since he saw her last, I wouldn't know; we were gonna mark her next on her birthday.

"Look!" Birdie points to the most recent mark and then stands with her back to the frame.

"Whoa," Hal smiles at the markings, "You're gonna be as tall as your mum, before you know it."

"Taller!" Birdie giggles.

"Think so?"

"Yeah!"

I laugh under my breath. "Go see if Daddy has breakfast for you."

"'Kay." Birdie leaves.

I breathe in, smiling at Hal. "I'm glad you're here. I missed you."

"Same to you," He gives me a soft punch to the arm, "How've you been?"

"Um, good," I smile faintly, "We've had sort of a busy go with the barriers and...the people."

"What people?" He furrows his brows.

"Um, some people came to our door for help," I put my hands up at his concern, "But it's okay, I know them."

"Know them?" He shakes his head. "What do you mean?"

"Remember how I told you I left a group of people in Pennsylvania? Well, they found their way to Virginia."

"Wow, small world," Hal looks down both ends of the hall, "Where are they?"

"Oh, there's a house not far from here," My smiles grows even fainter, "It got a little crowded."

Hal looks me over. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I shake my head, "But I was wondering if maybe...they could go into town?"

"You mean to find them someplace permanent?"

"Well, they can't really stay in one house all together forever and…" I turn my head down the hall, "Um...I think maybe they'd be happier there than here."

Hal follows my gaze. "Is everything alright?" He meets my eyes. "At home?"

"Yeah, of course, it's just…" I sigh, "Everything's okay."

…

Hal stays for breakfast, which Birdie absolutely loves. She talks his ear off about nonsensical things. Dwight and I talk with him, too, though not with each other. It's so awkward to dance around not speaking to one another. If he would talk to me, I would talk to him gladly.

In fact, I want to talk to him again. The little communications here and there aren't enough. The last time we didn't talk like this was when I was married to Negan.

The old gang hasn't come by yet. I still haven't told them about the other communities and I realize that it isn't fair to keep it all from them. I'm just afraid they won't come back.

Hal checks his watch. "I should hit the road soon."

"No, Hal, stay!" Birdie whines.

"I can't, baby," Hal pats her hand, "It's a long drive and I've got work to do."

"Then, I'll spend the night with you."

We chuckle. "You can't spend the night all the way at the Sanctuary, Bird."

"Yes, Mommy, you pick me up tomorrow." She slumps her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, but I have to say no."

"No!" Birdie draws out her objection in a pout.

Hal pulls something out of his pocket. "I brought this for you."

"What is it?" Birdie looks over the item.

"It's a music box," Hal takes it from her, "You turn it here, see? It plays music."

He turns the little crank and it begins to pluck out "Bicycle Built for Two".

I smile. "How sweet. Where'd you find that?"

"A good uncle never reveals his secrets." He winks at me. "Think you can give it a try, Pidge?"

"Yeah," Birdie takes it up and tries to turn it like Hal did, "I'm doing it!"

The tune plays backwards.

"Other way, babe."

She tries it the other way."Hey!"

"Look at that?" Hal chuckles. "You're a pro."

"What do you say?"

"Tank you, Hal."

"You are very welcome." He kisses the top of her head. "Alright, I've got to get going."

"Be safe, Hal." I hug him as we walk to the door. "Don't go places alone, okay?"

"I'll be okay, Gorgeous," He pecks my forehead, "When are you gonna come my way again?"

"Um, I don't know," I shrug, "Maybe when I bring the others in. We've been doing pretty well for ourselves."

Laughter can be heard from outside and Hal turns his head. "Is that them?"

I chew my lip. "Yeah."

I open the door and we go out. Lizzie, Isobel, and Ryanne are coming up the road. Liz stops first upon seeing Hal, which makes the others turn and notice him. Naturally, they're puzzled.

"Hey." I greet casually.

"Hey," Elizabeth says, still looking at Hal, "Um…"

"This is my friend, Hal," I smile, "He's from a place called The Sanctuary. It's about two hours east from here, along with a few other communities."

I was gonna tell them tonight, or maybe tomorrow, but I suppose I don't have a choice but to do it now.

"Other communities….?"

Isobel gives him a glance over, then looks to me. "There's other people near here?"

"Yeah," I scratch my thumb, "Um, remember when I told you we moved here after Birdie was born? Well, we lived at The Sanctuary before."

Hal clears his throat. "Hello," He smiles, "I'd be happy to take you 'into town' as they say, if you'd like. You and your people would be welcome to stay in any of the communities, I'm sure."

"Uh…" Isobel shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, "We'd have to talk to them. Our people, I mean."

"Of course," Hal nods, "I can wait a little while longer."

Isobel nods. "I'll...go get them." She turns around, still bewildered, along with Ryanne.

Lizzie stays, staring over at me.

I lick my lips, anxious. "Um, Hal, this is Elizabeth. She's Charlie's younger sister."

"Nice to meet you," Hal puts his hand out, "I've heard good things about your brother."

"Nice to meet you." She smiles, before glancing at me.

I hold my elbows, clearing my throat. "Did you need anything?"

"We came by to see if you needed help with anything," She tells me, "You know, as a way to earn our keep."

"Oh."

When her eye's move to the left, I turn and see Dwight standing by the front door.

…

My head feels like it's swimming. I weave it this way and that way, even though I'm sure that's not recommended. It hasn't stopped aching since I woke up. I pace back and forth in my cell with a loose feeling in my legs. I probably shouldn't be up doing this either, but I'm not supposed to sleep, so what hell else am I supposed to do?

Believe me, there's nothing more I'd like to do than lie down and sleep. When I'm awake, all my head does is think and think and fucking think some more. I think my thoughts are distorted or some shit. I keep having false memories.

My mind keeps trudging up memories of Nan and I, like how I remember, except everything I do or say seems to upset her and...I feel it. I feel bad for her. Like our wedding night; when she tried to straddle me and I stopped her. I see her cheeks get red and I'm embarrassed for her. Double when she slipped on the that was humiliating. I laughed at her.

I don't remember being such an asshole to her. If anything, I remember being way nicer to her than anybody else. At least I did anyway.

I groan, rubbing my face. I wasn't a bad husband to Nan, or any of my other wives. Why is that the thing they always bring up? I fucking turned their friends' heads into skull chili, but it's my wives they want to grill me for.

I never made her or any of them marry me against their wills. It's not my fucking fault they couldn't keep their points in order. Or is it? My head goes back to what Rick said the last time we spoke, but I shake it off.

I did a lot for Nan. Who checked up on her when Dwight went off for almost her whole pregnancy to go tell Rick where my battleships were? Me, I did. I made sure she ate and made her go to her doctor's appointments. I fucking had the wives put a nursery together for when our daughter.

I wince with a little nausea in my stomach when my head recalls her face when I asked her to come back to live there. I wasn't doing it for nothing.

I fucking let her come back after what she did and how she fucking took off with my only living child almost due to be born and locked her in the room she hated so much, because I wanted her to live there. I wanted what I wanted and I made damn sure I got it. I didn't care why she did it, or how she felt, I just was happy to get what I wanted. At least that's how my head's making me remember it.

When I've had enough pacing, I sit on the cot and run my hands up and down my face. I can't get her angry, white hot words out of my head. I hadn't had anyone speak to me like that with such fucking fury since Lucille, when she'd find out about my affairs. She eventually grew quiet about them, when she suspected I was sleeping around, which was somehow always worse than being yelled at.

I remember one time I almost wanted her to pack her things like she had done before and declare that she was leaving me. I never thought she was bluffing when she'd do that, even though she always agreed to come back. That was after I spent every fucking hour awake trying to get a hold of her to beg her to come back.

Tears makes my eyes start to ache and my throat clenches up. I exhale, cursing under my breath. I couldn't stand Nan's cold silence. That contentment and fucking determination to never speak to me again. She did what Lucille never did, too; she left me. Then and now.

I want to hate her. Sometimes, I think really fucking do, whenever I picture her with our daughter somewhere. Happy and smiling and laughing...I really want to hate that bitch.

I wag my head, which makes me feel like puking. She is a bitch, but I can't fucking blame her for that. She had to toughen up to make it around me, to fight for what she wanted for Birdie.

I lie down on my side, staring at the bars, or maybe what's between the bars. I don't know. Maybe I wasn't good to her after all.

…

Birdie had an accident during her nap. Probably from all the water and juice she drank beforehand and shaking her head no when asked if she needed to go. She sniffled a little bit; this is actually her first accident in a while.

I told her it was okay and that I'm really proud of her for being potty trained like a big girl, accident aside. I dried her tears and then she wanted to take a bath, so Nan drew one for her, while I washed her clothes and our fitted sheet.

As I'm hanging them on the line to dry, I notice Nan from the kitchen window. She runs her hand under her nose and then her lips start to form words, so I assume she's talking to Birdie who's out of sight. She looks up, seeing me and I focus back on pinning Birdie's legging pants on the line.

She's been really quiet since Hal agreed to take Nate and his people to the other communities. He left right before Birdie went down for a nap, which was late today, because of her excitement. He met them all and told them about how good things are "in town".

Some of them seemed a little skeptical that such described places exist. I guess it's not that hard to have doubts, or reservations about going with a stranger to some wonderland. Hell, I did and I got The Sanctuary and Negan in return.

Hal offered to take as many as he could in the truck he drove here, so they could get a look of the place. Nate and Isobel went with him, leaving their son under the care of the rest for the two days that they'll be gone.

Nan was pretty much silent through the whole of their meeting. I think she doesn't want them to leave. That, or she knows she shouldn't have kept the thriving civilizations two hours away a secret. I don't think anyone told her off about it, but when Hal, Nate, and Isobel drove away, she came back inside, wiping tears from her face.

She didn't say anything to me, but then again we haven't exactly spoken in four or five days. If we do, it's brief and mostly about Birdie. Nan's the one who speaks first every time.

I'm still angry with her. She was being careless when she opened the door to those people the other night and she damn well knows it. I know she wants to point the finger at me and while I'll admit that me not listening to Nan about taking Birdie to the river resulted in them finding us, something I could kick myself for, she let them in based on what she thought she knew, which could've meant our lives.

I am mad at myself for not being more vigilant when I heard that noise that I thought was just a bird, but I don't like being told I wasn't looking out for my family, because I was busy looking for Sherry. I work hard to make sure she and our daughter are safe and sound and that's what I get slapped with when her back's in a corner?

When I've finished hanging up the bed sheet, I go back inside.

"Daddy, there you are." Birdie says from the living room.

"Here I am," I reply, smiling, "You watching T.V.?"

"Yeah, The Sound Music," She pats the empty space on the couch, "Come watch it."

"Maybe later, Bird."

"No, Daddy, it's over later."

"I'll come watch it with you in a sec, honey." Nan tells her, "Just let me dry these dishes."

"No, I want Daddy."

"Daddy's busy."

"I'm not busy," I say, looking over at Birdie, "I was just gonna go down to the barriers. I don't have to today, I'll watch the movie with you."

"Yay!" Birdie cheers with her hands up.

I walk into the living room, where _The Sound of Music_ is playing on our T.V. I sit next to Birdie, who hugs me from the side, resting her head on me. I put my arm around her and glance at the television. I wasn't actually planning on going down to the barriers, I just made that up, so I wouldn't have to watch this for the billionth time.

We don't have a lot of movies, but this one always makes me fall asleep. The singing gets old after awhile. But it's really the only one Birdie can watch or pay attention to, so it's plays a lot around here.

I can already feel my eyelids getting heavy after about ten minutes. I blink lazily over to the kitchen after a while and there I focus a little on Nan by the sink still. She's standing there, maybe looking out the window, like she's trying to think of what to do. After a minute, she gets the pint sized watering can in the window ledge and fills it, and then waters her herbs.

"Hey," I nudge Birdie, "Ask Mommy to come sit with us."

"No, Daddy," Birdie shakes her head, "We watching a movie."

"Well, she wanted to watch it, too, I think."

"No, just us."

"Birdie, tell Mom to come watch with us," I insist in a quiet voice, "Please?"

Birdie looks over at Nan in the kitchen. "Mommy!"

"Yeah, honey?" She stealthily wipes at her eye.

"Come watch with us!"

"Okay, just a minute."

I watch as she turns her back on us and appears to be drying her eyes some more. She then turns back around and treads into the living room.

"I wanna sit on you." Birdie says to her as she comes to the couch.

"You do?" Nan has a seat on the couch. "Why do you want to sit on my lap when there's a whole couch?"

"Because you smell good." Birdie climbs into her lap and is held as she lays back against Nan.

"You're very sweet," Nan kisses the top of her head, "I love you."

"Love you, too." Birdie replies before a yawn.

I stay awake a little longer than I normally would during this movie. Nan and I are sitting close enough to one another, but we don't look at each other. Birdie says things here and there or asks questions, which either Nan or I answer.

I almost nod off at one point, but I'm reawaken by Nan's under breath singing of that song the father sings in the movie.

When the movie's finally over, I get up to make dinner. I only make enough for the three of us. Without Nate or Isobel, the others won't come around. At least, that's what I figure, since none of them ever show up without either or. Except Elizabeth, which may prompt someone else to go, but I have a feeling she's not coming.

Aside from Birdie pulling conversation out of us with her usual talkativeness, dinner's quiet.

"Daddy, my arm hurts." Birdie points to her elbow where there's a slight bruise from when I accidentally pushed her off the bed.

"I'm sorry, baby."

"Why does it hurt?" She asks.

"Because you bumped it on the floor, remember? I remind her as I chew. "Daddy rolled you off the bed in his sleep."

"Why?"

"Because you were sleeping at the foot of the bed and I stretched my foot when I was sleeping."

"That was mean," Birdie holds her elbow with a pout, "I got a boo-boo."

"You'll live."

"Kiss it better, please."

"After dinner."

"Okay….Mommy?"

Nan looks up from her plate. "Hm?"

"I wanna sleep in my room."

"You do?" She says, surprised. "How come?"

"So I won't get pushed and fall off," Birdie replies, "And, um, your bed is wet."

"No, it's not, babe, we cleaned where you had your accident."

"I wanna sleep in my bed like a big girl."

"Okay." Nan nods, before going back to eating. She and I both know that Birdie will more than likely wind up in our room at some point in the night. But I can't help but notice that she looks a little down.

…

Later, once dinner is over and the kitchen's been cleaned, Nan gets Birdie ready for bed. I take my nightly perimeter check which usually takes me anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes. I use this time to smoke another cigarette Nate offered me. I've been reusing it, just until it goes down to the point where I can't smoke it anymore.

When I've made a complete circle, finding myself back where I started in front of the house, I go inside quietly. Birdie should be asleep by now. The house is silent, so I assume that she's down.

I tread lightly down the hall and, seeing that the light is still on in her bedroom, look in. Nan's lying on her small bed with her, asleep. I turn off the lights and carefully close the door almost all the way.

I undress in our bedroom and go to the shower. It's getting cold, so a nice hot shower is all I could want right now. I stand under the stream until the hot water is gone, breathing in the steam like smoke. I dry off in the bathroom to keep the warmth in.

I search the medicine cabinet and the drawers until I find the tooth paste. Nan's not the most organized person, so she either just leaves crap on the top of the sink, or in a drawer she didn't get something from in the first place. I find the tube at the second to last drawer, which is annoying. Beside it, I see something that appears to reflect the light overhead. I pick it up, knowing it's a ring right away. When I turn it forward, I stare down at the little opal stone that's one half of a locket. It's Nan's ring that Charlie gave her before the world changed.

I haven't seen it in years; I actually forgot about it. I unclasp the halves and look at the two pictures. It's amazing how much Birdie looks like Nan when she was a kid. My eyes move to the other side, where she and Charlie are. Elizabeth kind of looks like her brother, at least from what I can see.

He seems like a nice guy from the photo. She looks like she loves him. Like she's happy.

I remember when she used to not be happy, or even content. She's happy now, she's told me so.

I close the locket and put it back where I found it. I leave the bathroom to the air of bedroom. I sit down on my side and glance over at my night table. I open up the small drawer and reach towards the back. I pull out an old, folded envelope that hold mine and Sherry's wedding rings.

I pour them out into my palm to look at them. They've each got a couple dings in the bands from wear. The stone in Sherry's is small and didn't cost much; I was eighteen when I bought it. I told her that one day I'd replace it with a bigger diamond, but she said it was perfect, even though I'm think I can recall times when she'd see her friends' rings and then look down at hers.

The door opens as I fold the envelope back up. It's Nan. Her eyes glance down at the envelope as I stick it back in the drawer. I'm not sure she knows what's inside, but she still blinks up to me as I close the drawer. She looks a little drained, but she goes to the drawer, turning her back to undress and dress for bed. I hear her sniff quietly a few times.

I clear my throat. "Is Birdie asleep?" As if I don't already know.

"Yeah." She rasps, undoing her bra.

I lick my lips, rubbing my hands on my legs. "Um...you okay?"

"I'm fine." She says curtly.

I nod my head, breathing out as I go to use the bathroom. When I come back out, she's sitting on her side, wiping tears from her face. I want to ignore it and just let her pretend she's fine, but I don't know if I can.

I peel back the blankets on my side with the intention of getting in and going to sleep. But, her sniffling gets to me. I sit down, scratching my moustache as I think.

I clear my throat again. "She mad at you?"

"What?" She looks my way with knitted brows.

"Elizabeth," I clarify, "Your, um, sister-in-law."

"She's not my sister-in-law," Nan retorts with a slight scoff, "Charlie and I were never married."

"Yeah, but you told Birdie…" I sigh under my breath, "Um, well, is she mad at you?"

"I don't know," Nan pulls her hair tie out of her hair, "But she and everyone else are gonna leave and then I won't see her anymore."

I bite my lip. "Well, maybe….Nate and Isobel won't care for any of it and they'll stay."

"Of course, they'll like it," She huffs, "Why would they not? They'd be welcome there."

I fish for something else to say. "Okay, well, you'll see them when you go to town."

"No, I can't," A tear slides down her cheek, "Because they'll want to know why we left all of that for this place."

That kind of stings. I get under the covers, shifting to my side. "Night."

The light goes out in the room. I feel her body make the bed move as she lies down and hear the slight creak from the wood frame.

"Dwight?"

"Yeah?"

She doesn't speak right away. The air within the brief delay sounds or feels apprehensive. "It's cold," She finally rasps, "...Can I lie close to you?"

I stare at the night stand in front of me. "...Yeah." I sound frustrated, which wasn't intentional, but it's fitting to how I feel right now.

Nan brings her body close to mine. Not quite so next to me as if to hold onto me, there's some small space. I hear breathe out softly. I want to close my eyes, but I'm sure I can feel hers on me, so I'm waiting.

"Will you face me?" She asks.

I want to tell her no. But I think she'd take it cruelly and I can't be cruel to her. So, I turn over onto my back, which isn't fully facing her, but it nearly closes the gap. I look up at the ceiling for a moment, before I meet her eyes.

Her eyes are soft, but tired from crying. She looks at me, but she drops her gaze like she doesn't know what to say. I see that a missed tear rests in the middle of her cheek. I reach over to brush it off, then lie back. Her eyes follow my movement.

She gives my shoulder a light kiss in return, settling back with a sigh through her nose. I look back at her and she at me. She touches the side of my face, tenderly caressing my scarred cheek with her thumb, before leaning forward to kiss me. I glance her over as she parts from my lips.

I can't help but getting a little turned on. It's not intentional, it's just that it's been awhile and I do love her, despite being pissed off. Maybe I am tired of being angry. Ours meet up again and I think she's read me, because she puts her hand on my face again. I roll her way to kiss her.

She softly, but lustfully deepens the kiss. Her hand grips the end of my shirt.

I can feel myself getting hard and I move over on her. She lies back, putting her arms around my neck as our mouths lock. She moans a little at the feel of my cock against her.

Nan slides her leg up, touching down my body. She breaks from our kiss, heaving a little, and moving under me.

I look down to her trying to push her pants down. I start to do the same, but when I look at her, wanting to be with her, I suddenly get this flash thought in my head.

I recall some of the times we had at Sanctuary. Not the good times, but the times I always try to make sure I never repeat. When I use to use her...and she'd let me use her. She would always agree, even though I knew she didn't really feel like it. She just wanted to be of comfort as well as maybe trying to forget her own unhappiness.

I stare at her and she looks up, breathless. I scan her face and it almost looks like it used to when we shouldn't have had sex, but we did. She wasn't happy then.

I don't know if she's trying to make up for what she said, or if she's trying to ease the sadness she feels about Elizabeth possibly leaving. She doesn't she ask what's wrong, but I know she must be wondering as she stares up. I feel the desire to start fall.

"I…." I sigh, getting off her, "I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't."

Nan watches me for a moment in silence. She then fumbles to pull up her pants and tuck hair behind her ear.

"Nan, it's-"

"It's okay." She swiftly says, moving to her side of the bed again.

"I-"

"It's okay." She lays on her side away from me, bringing the blankets up to her shoulder.

…

The doctor comes back around the evening chow time. He brings my dinner, which I'll shovel down when he leaves even though I don't feel like eating.

"How have you been?"

"Dandy," I say as he shines the little light in my eyes, "You know, I'm fine. If I were gonna slip into a coma and bite it, I'm sure I would've by now."

"Well, it's my job to make sure you don't."

I chuckle. "Boy, don't you wish you had the opposite job?"

"I took an oath," Siddiq claims, "And Rick has tasked with me keeping all of the living as well as I can."

"Hm."

He takes about five minutes to inspect me through the bars. He's pleased with my health, even though I've lied about most of the shit he asked about.

"Alright, I'll be back around midnight," He hangs his stethoscope around his neck, "Maybe later on after that as well."

"Why?" I furrow my brows, drowsy feeling.

"Because it's my job."

I roll my eyes. "Did you ask around for me?"

Siddiq looks over. "About your daughter? Uh, sort of. I radioed Sanctuary. I think someone is gonna check on them.

I sigh, relieved. "Thanks."

He nods, going to leave.

"Hey, and the picture?"

He halts.

"Well?"

The doctor clears his throat. "Um, I did ask about that," He glances over his shoulder, making eye contact, "I'm sorry, they had already washed it. The picture got destroyed."

"What?" My breath slips out.

"I'm really sorry." He tells me, then leaves.

I stand there. My knees feels like weights. My vision blurs and my throat aches as I try to stable my breath.

"No," I cry to myself in this goddamn place, "No."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Kara315: Lol, yeah, I think a lot of people thought it was Sherry. Not this time...maybe next time ;) She will definitely rear her head at some point. Negan, too.**

 **PruRose: I agree, Nan definitely got a little to excited to think clearly. I did hear he was going over to Fear the Walking Dead. I'm happy but disappointed, since I don't watch that one and I like Dwight in The Walking Dead setting. I feel like the character is getting shifted around, but we'll see.**

 **CLTex: I'm glad you're excited for the new people! They'll get better fleshed out later on. I agree that Dwight did lead them to the house, which was what Nan feared, but I do think Dwight's got a point as well. They're both at fault, they're just butting heads at who's more to blame. I feel bad for Negan, but he'll get out eventually.**


	8. Chapter 8

Nate and Isobel came yesterday evening. Needless to say, they were amazed with what they saw and decided to have a meeting with the rest of the group back at the house.

This morning, I've been glancing over at the time since I woke up, waiting for someone to come and tell me when they're planning on leaving. Hal stayed the night, much to Birdie's delight, in waiting as well.

Dwight gets up a few minutes after me, goes to the bathroom, and then out of the room without a glance. Just a "mornin'" after he cleared his throat.

It's really cold in the house and since no one else is up, I just sit there in bed with the blankets on me. I bring my knees up and rest my head as I look out the window.

I know they'll go; why wouldn't they? Any one of those communities would a fine place for them to all settle. If we didn't have to leave, we might have stayed at the Sanctuary. This opportunity is too good for them to pass up.

I can't stand in the way of what they want, but I don't want Lizzie to leave. I spent so many years blaming myself for losing her and believing she had died out there. She and I were always close, even when Charlie and I weren't doing good. She's like my sister. The only living family I have from life before.

The door opens and Dwight walks in with a white mug that reads "Lorelei's" in red cursive on it. He comes around to set it on my nightstand, but hands it to me instead when I put my hand out.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He turns to walk out of the room just as soon as he came in.

"Dwight?"

"Yeah?" He replies as he walks.

"Dwight?"

Dwight stops and turns to look at me. "Yeah?"

I meet his eyes. I hesitate for a moment, nervous. "...Um, I really do appreciate the coffee."

His stare softens and he glances down at the door handle. "Oh, well, like I said before, it's no big deal."

I bite my lip. I go to say more, but Birdie's laughter somewhere in the house takes my attention. Her feet and laugh come running into the bedroom.

She hurries over to the bed and climbs up, still cackling as she crawls under the blanket.

I lift my brow. "Uh, Bird, whatcha doin'?"

"Hiding!"

"Hiding? From who?"

"From Hal," She says from under the covers, "I waked him up."

"That wasn't very nice," I tell her, "You should let Hal sleep."

"It's okay, Hal loves me."

"Well, he won't for long if you keep being a brat to him when he's trying to sleep."

"Nah, he loves me," She pokes her head out of the blankets with a smile, "G'morning."

I chuckle. "Good morning."

She chuckles, too, with a throaty little inhale. "I put my blocks on his tummy and his head." She puts a finger on her forehand.

"And he woke up?"

"Yeah!" Birdie giggles. "He woke up."

I pet her bangs back. "You are trouble."

"I'm hungry."

"Okay, I'll make you some breakfast."

"No, Daddy do it." She goes to point towards him, but he's gone from the room. He must have left when she and I were talking.

My eyes blink from the open door. "It's my day to make breakfast."

"No, I want daddy to."

"Well, sorry, but it's my day."

"No!"

"Yes, don't argue with me," I smooch her lips, "Daddy cooks almost every single meal, every single day, so it's my day to give him a break."

"His food is gooder."

"Gooder is not a word," I inform her, sipping my perfect coffee, "And that's not nice. I'm a good cook."

"Mm, no you not."

"Well, I guess next time I make meatloaf, you can just skip dinner and go to bed hungry."

"No!" She laughs.

I laugh with her. "Come on, let's go to the kitchen."

As we reach the end of the hall, Birdie peeks forward to see if Hal's on the couch where he had slept. Her smiles fades a little when we find the room empty. Dwight can be seen in the kitchen, pouring himself coffee.

"Hey, where'd he go?"

"I don't know," I say as we walk into the living room to enter the kitchen, "Maybe he's had enough of your shenanigans and-"

Hal leaps out from around the wall and growls. I spill a little coffee in the scare. Birdie shreiks as he snatches her up. "You disturbed my slumber, you wicked little beast!"

Birdie laughs out loud. "Sorry, sorry!"

"Sorry's not gonna save you now," Hal plants a kiss on her cheek, "I'm confiscating all the blocks you put on me. Taking 'em back to Sanctuary with me, maybe give 'em to the twins."

Birdie doesn't find that as funny. "No, you better not."

"What are you gonna do about it, huh?" He bounces her a little in his arms. "You gonna bash me good?"

Birdie gives him slap on the arm. "Stop it."

"Birdie," I scold her with a terse voice, "Apologize. Right now."

"He-"

"Right now," I repeat sternly, "Or you're sitting in timeout."

She pouts, turning her head towards Hal. "I sorry, Hal."

"Sorry for what?" I raise my brow.

"Sorry for hitting."

"Sure, love, if you call that a hit," Hal kisses her cheek again, "No harsh feelings."

He sets her down and she runs over to where Dwight's at, standing by his side with her arms crossed. She doesn't like getting in trouble, or being told to say sorry. She'll sulk for a minute or two with her brows furrowed and then give it up and be nice. She bounces back quickly.

"I think you may have been too harsh on the girl." Hal tells me, smiling at her willful little face.

I roll my eyes, smiling. "She knows she's not allowed to hit people."

"It was nothing," He says, "Just a little tap for the teasing."

I start to tell him not argue with me, but someone knocks at the front door. I glance that way, holding my elbow in a plain- faced dread. Dwight goes to the door after a second with Birdie following behind him. It opens and I hear Nate greet Dwight.

The footsteps that follow into the kitchen are both of theirs, Isobel's, and Kit's. Bird pads alongside Dwight, stealing glances over at Kit.

"Good morning!" Isobel smiles at me.

"Morning." Hal and I greet back in unison, except with different tones.

"Have you talked to your people?"

"Yes, and after a good long talk, we've decided to go with you." Nate tells Hal.

"Glad to hear it," Hal nods with a smile, "How long 'til you'll be ready?"

"We don't have anything that we can't carry on our backs, so not long at all."

"Fantastic," Hal replies, "We can leave after breakfast, if you don't mind."

"No, that's perfect."

"Thank you again," Isobel smiles at Hal, "We really appreciate this."

"My pleasure."

"Are you staying for breakfast?" I ask them.

"Oh, no," Isobel smiles, "We just were talking a morning walk. We should get back."

"Oh, okay." I say, a little disappointed. "Is Liz on her way?"

"Uh, maybe later when we leave."

"Okay."

"Mom, I need to use the bathroom." Kit touches his mother's elbow.

"Oh, okay," She looks back to me, "Do you mind?"

"No, not at all."

Isobel encourages Kit out of the kitchen and down the hall.

I glance at Nate. "Is everyone excited to go?"

He nods slowly. "Uh, a little nervous, but I think it'll be nice to have a permanent place to live, instead of moving around."

"Yeah," I hold my elbows, "Kit can go to school."

"Yeah," He scratches his facial hair, "I think he'll like meeting other kids."

"Yeah, ones that don't mind sharing." I look over at Birdie, who moves her face as if to hide behind Dwight.

Nate snickers. "She's fine. Kit likes her well enough."

"I'm sure she'll miss him more than she lets on," I smile, "She's just stubborn."

The toilet flushes and the sink turns on down the hall.

"Well, they can meet up when you come in," Nate tells me, "How often do you go that way?"

"Uh-"

"She's practically forgotten in our neck of the woods," Hal teases me, "She's hasn't been down in ages. I came here to do a welfare check."

"Shut up," I chuckle slightly, "We just haven't needed to make the drive. But we will soon."

"Well, wherever they stick us, you can always stay if you need to for the night."

"Thanks."

"Alright," Isobel comes back with Kit, "Ready to head back?"

"Yeah." Nate nods. "We'll see ya in an hour?"

"Sounds good."

The family leaves.

"Hey, where they going?" Birdie asks, pointing towards the door as it closes.

"Back to their house," I answer her, "They're moving today."

"Moving?"

"Yeah, they're gonna go with Uncle Hal to live in town."

She knits her brows. "Why come?"

"Because the house they live at now is too small for everyone."

"Kit, too?"

"Yeah, babe, he's gotta go with his parents."

"Okay, good."

"Birdie, be nice," I exhale, picking up my coffee, "You're gonna miss not having someone to pal around with."

"No, I not."

Hal smirks at her certainty. "What? You like being out here all by your lonesome?"

"Yeah," Birdie smiles at him, touching Dwight's hand, "With my daddy and mommy."

"You little misanthrope," Hal stretches, "I'm gonna grab a quick shower before we eat."

"Okay." I smile as he walks out of the room, but I can't hide that I'm a little disheartened. Especially not when I glance over at Dwight after realizing he's observing me.

"Mommy, my feet are cold."

"Go get a pair of socks from your room and I'll put them on."

"'Kay." She goes out of the room.

I rub my arm for a second, before I breathe, walking to the fridge. "We need eggs." I say more to myself.

"I'll go get 'em."

"No, I've got it," I close the door, rubbing a hand over my eyes, "I've just gotta get my shoes and my jacket…" I turn, "And get dressed."

"You alright?"

"Fine." I murmur down the hall.

I change into some jeans and a soft faded t-shirt with the same diner logo on it. I slip on some socks and then remember that my boots and jacket are in the hallway closet.

"Here." I hear Birdie say from the kitchen.

"Go sit, please."

"Daddy, your face got hurt."

"I know, Bird."

"What happen?"

I pause as I stick my arm in the right sleeve of my jacket, listening.

"Uh, I got burned."

"Ow," Birdie says, "I kiss it better, if you want."

"Oh, thanks, baby, but it doesn't hurt anymore."

"It got better?"

"Yeah," He replies, "It's all healed up."

I go back to the kitchen with a hint of a smile on my face.

"Mommy, Daddy's face got burned."

"I know, it did," I smile lightly, "I'm gonna go get some eggs."

"I wanna come!"

"It's pretty cold out today, honey, I think you better stay inside with Daddy."

"I was actually gonna feed 'em for you."

I look at Dwight. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I could stand a little fresh air." Dwight stands up from kneeling to put on Birdie's socks.

"Oh, okay."

The three of us go out to the coop. Birdie sort of just roams around, while Dwight and I do the work. We're quiet.

We still haven't talked really. Especially not since he rolled off of me saying he couldn't have sex with me. That was absolutely mortifying; he looked down at me and then said he couldn't continue what I was sure we both wanted.

I wasn't trying to make up for everything like I know I usually do. It's an anxious, knee jerk reaction, one that still irks me to know that I have after all these years, especially with someone like Dwight, who doesn't expect me to do that.

I was just tired and sad, knowing that my old friends were leaving. I just wanted to be held or be close to him. I wanted him to know that I know that I hurt him. I know I got the ball rolling, but it wasn't with any design of making up or him forgiving me. I wanted him.

"Mommy, when can we go play with Alma and Benji?"

I look over at Birdie, who's sitting down on the ground with a chicken nested in her lap. That one must like her for some unknown reason, if chickens can be partial.

"Uh, I don't know," I reply, putting an egg in the cloth-lined bowl, "Maybe soon."

"When?"

"I don't know," I repeat with some frustration under my breath, "Soon."

"Tomorrow?"

"Birdie," I point my eyes towards her, "I said soon, okay? I don't know when, but soon."

Her eyes grow and her lips button. She hangs her head down to look at the chicken, which she pets.

I instantly regret my snippy tone, which I didn't mean. My eyes pick up to Dwight, who's looking at me. I stick the last egg in the bowl and move some hair behind my ear, embarrassed.

"Um, maybe we'll go before your birthday," I say gently, "We'll need some things to make your cake."

"I want the green kind."

"The princess cake?" I ask, still a little ashamed as I close up the little coop windows.

"Yeah, not the lellow kind."

"Okay, we'll make that for Daddy's birthday," I peek over, "Unless Daddy wants something else."

Dwight shrugs, scattering the feed on the ground.

"I don't like the lellow kind." She stands up as the chicken runs over to where the food is.

"Well, I won't make that kind for you."

"Good," She brushes the dirt off the back of her pants, "I wanna go inside. It's too cold."

"Okay, we're going."

Inside, Birdie goes to the living room to get her blocks.

"Are you sure you're alright?

I peer over at Dwight as I'm washing the eggs. "Yes, I'm fine."

"You sure? Because you kind of snapped at her for no reason."

"I didn't mean to sound harsh," I scoff, defensive, "It just came out that way."

"Yeah, that's my point," Dwight retorts, "You say you're fine, but then you're snapping at Birdie and short with…"

I look at him. "Short with who? You?"

Dwight raises his brows as if to say 'Well….yeah.'

Hal walks into the kitchen and we both look his way. He glances between us, sensing his entrance was on bad timing.

"Am I interrupting?"

"No," I sigh, going over to the stove, "I was just about to make breakfast."

"Oh, you are?" He says, unaware. "Well, in that case, I better skip it."

I smile, trying to be of good humor. "Shut up."

…

Nate's group arrives back at our house an hour after breakfast. He wasn't exaggerating when he said they only had what they could carry on their backs. The time they spent must have been just getting up and eating breakfast, because I can't imagine they were packing for an hour.

Nan excused herself to the bathroom when we heard the knock.

Some of the things they have look heavy, so I offer to help them load it up. "Here, let me give you a hand."

"Oh," Elizabeth hands me her hulky backpack over, "Thanks."

"You carry this on your back?" I set it down like a cinder-block.

She chuckles. "Yeah, you get use to the feeling of being pressed to death when you move from place to place."

I snicker a little. "Yeah, I know what that's like."

"But I thought Hal said you lived at Sanctuary before?"

"Uh, yeah, but I meant before that."

"Oh, right, I guess everyone did that when things got bad."

"Yeah," I nod my head, looking at the truck, "Nan did it alone for a few months."

Her expression fades. "After Charlie?"

"From what she's told me, yeah," I scratch my thumb, "She was in bad shape when they brought her in...from what I remember anyway."

If I'm being honest, I didn't remember Nan's name when Simon brought her in. I just remembered him bringing in a woman he said they found surrounded by walkers inside a car she was sleeping in. I also remember him cracking a smile and saying that if she cleaned up nice, he might take a crack at her before the boss saw her.

But I don't think Negan knew Nan existed until she killed Ronnie. To be fair, I didn't pay her mind before then either, but I didn't pay anyone else mind for that matter.

She huffs. "Yeah, that sounds like Anna. She's never really been self-reliant."

I look her over. "What do you mean?"

"She always relied on someone else to take care of things," She tells me, "She also kept secrets, which I guess hasn't changed." She says that last part under her breath.

"So, you are mad at her?"

"I'm not mad at her," She shrugs her shoulders, "I just don't understand why she kept this whole other world from us."

"She was gonna tell you."

"When?" She scoffs, shaking her head. "I mean, it's not hard to see that we can't stay here long term, so what was stopping her?"

"I don't know, maybe she wanted to catch up," I tell her, "She thought you were dead. She told me that she lost you on a run."

Elizabeth looks down, as if remembering that. "She didn't lose me. A hoard of roamers flooded the area, we got seperated."

"She said it was her fault."

"It wasn't her fault," Elizabeth exhales, "That car was basically a hazard to drive, the engine caught fire and drew in the dead. It was no one's fault."

"Well, she blamed herself regardless."

"Nan just takes the blame," She sighs, "She's always done that, too. She doesn't like people being mad at her, so she ends up apologizing, or whatever it takes for forgiveness."

I nod, knowing what she means. "Well...she must have had to go back and tell your brother what had happened, right?"

Elizabeth glances at her backpack, as if she hadn't considered that.

I briefly peer over at the brother and sister, who appear to be arguing. "I can't imagine having to carry that."

"...Charlie wouldn't have blamed her, I don't think," She says, looking back at me, "Even if he had, he would have forgave her. He always did, even when she didn't deserve it."

I nod. "She told me."

"Don't get me wrong, I…" She breathes out, "I love Nan like a sister, she practically is my sister, but sometimes I use to think Charlie was some lovesick idiot for staying with her."

I listen to her harsh words.

"But whenever she'd cheat on him with that girl and he'd leave her and come to our house, he'd say it was the final straw, but if anyone said anything about how he deserved better, he'd always come to her defense. Say she was a good person and that she was genuine when she apologized...then he'd end up forgiving her."

"He really must have loved her then," I reply, "If he was willing to forgive and stay with her, despite all the problems."

"Yeah…" She smiles fondly, but with melancholy, "I never saw Charlie so much in love. He used to say she was the one."

My eyes look up.

She sighs. "Well, I better help the others."

I nod again. "You should go easy on her. She still makes mistakes, but she means it when she's sorry. She is a good person; one of the only ones I know of."

Elizabeth glances at me, before she goes to help Shawna.

I take out the remaining cigarette I have in my pocket to smoke what's left of it by the tree across. Nate's already standing there, smoking as well.

"Told you we'd be out of your hair soon enough."

I light my pathetically salvaged cigarette. "I'm sorry if I made you feel unwelcome."

"Don't sweat it," Nate exhales, "I wouldn't want to share this little patch of paradise either."

"It's hardly paradise," I scoff, taking smoke into my lungs, "More like point of exile. At least a reminder of it the last couple days."

"That why you live out here?" He asks. "You got driven out?"

"I did," I make clear as I breathe, "Not Nan. She just went with me, because-"

"She's your wife."

I put the cigarette up to my lips. "She had just had Birdie."

He nods, tilting his head to look at me. "Are you two not married?"

"Uh, no, we're not."

"Oh," He takes a drag, exhaling it out, "What were you exiled for?"

I shift my jaw as I remember. "A lot of things."

"So, you deserved it."

"Yeah, I did," I admit, "I made amends where I could, but some things can't be made right."

"Yeah. " Nate says under his breath.

Isobel waves him over, rolling her eyes at what I assume is the smoking.

"Well, I guess we're hitting road," He drops the cigarette and steps on it, "Thanks again for the help." He puts his hand out. "I appreciate it."

"Sure," I shake his hand, "It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise." He smiles. "For what's it worth, I don't know what you did, but if Nan still trusts you, then you must be alright."

"...Thanks."

"Sure," He nods, "I'll see ya around."

I scratch my head. "If things don't work out," I start, before thinking about what I'm about to say, "...That house down the road is vacant."

Nate looks at me, straight-faced but surprised. "Really?"

I nod my head. "Yeah."

He nods back. "Okay."

I stand there and smoke what's left. They'll learn the truth soon enough and by then the offer will be an insult to them, I'm sure. I just hope Nan won't have to pay the price for that like she's done already being out here.

I don't mind being out here, in fact, I love it. How could I not? But I haven't asked Nan how she feels about it now. When I first brought her here, she said she loved it, but that could've changed. Isolation is a heavy, drawn out type of misery. One you feel physically. I should know, I spent god knows how long in the cells, twice, until I was broken enough to be remade. The first time, I don't know what was worse, the hot sting and smell of my burned, decaying flesh, or the deprivation.

I look for her out here, but she must be inside still. I put out the cigarette for good and walk towards the house. She'll be even more miserable than she is now, if she doesn't talk to Elizabeth before she leaves. Especially since she's bent on not going back for however long she thinks we can last.

"Hold up on leaving," I tell Hal, "I'm gonna get Nan."

"It's cool, we're still waiting on Troy to get back from taking a piss." Nate says.

"Watch your mouth, Nate." Isobel chides him, signalling towards their son.

I enter the house and find Birdie by the window, looking out.

"What are you doing?" I ask her. "You can outside."

"Hal's leaving," She pouts, "I don't want him to see me."

She must get her sulkiness from Nan.

"He's gonna come looking for you, if you go out there, so you better go say goodbye." I look around. "Where's Mom?"

"Your room."

I go down the hall. As I do, I hear low talking.

"I just have to find the key."

"Well, hurry it up, we're leaving."

"Okay, I just have to remember where D put it."

"What? Your old man doesn't let you know where the key to the weapons is?"

"No, he does, I just-"

"Shit, I hope he's not a mean drunk."

"I found it."

"I saw the bruise on your daughter's elbow."

"She rolled off the bed, but thanks for your concern."

"Should I be concerned?"

I find Troy towering over Nan as she gets into the closet.

"I mean, you seem a little meek around the guy. Is that why you wanted us to stick around?"

"Here."

Nan looks at me as she's handing the duffle bag of weapons to Troy. He looks back and eyes me up.

"Didn't want to leave without our shit you've been holding onto all this time."

"Well, you have it, so you better get going," I reply curtly, "I think they're waiting for you."

Troy scoffs and passes me, bumping into me on purpose as he does. I don't pay him mind, I glance at Nan.

"He came in to use the bathroom," She says, uncomfortable, "Asked if they could have their weapons back."

I nod. "They're heading out. Don't you want to say goodbye?"

She shrugs bleakly, eyes obviously soft from crying. "It's not goodbye; I'll see them when I go into town."

I lean a hand on the door. "Well, don't you think you should at least talk to Elizabeth? Just to be on good terms?"

She hold her elbows. "I told you, she-"

"She told me she is frustrated," I counter, "That you didn't tell them sooner."

Her lips part, almost like a child's, like she might cry. She glances at the door. "I was going to, you know that."

"I know."

"I just wanted some time…" She inhales and exhales through her nose, "I lived with them."

"I know." I repeat.

Nan looks me in the eye. I look back.

"Mommy! Daddy!" Birdie comes running down the hall.

"What?" Nan asks her. "What is it?"

"Hal's leaving!" She informs us. "We have to say goodbye."

"We do, you're right," Nan takes her hand, "We better hurry before he drives off."

I watch the two go down the hall to the front, so they can say their goodbyes. I linger for a moment.

I don't know if it's from talking about her, or talking to her just now, or maybe even the look in her eyes, but I don't want to be angry with her anymore. I don't feel angry.

I walk to the front and from the door, I see Nan speaking to Elizabeth. Elizabeth nods, before hugging her and then getting into the car. Birdie waves them off. Hal puts his hand out of the window to wave back at her.

The two stand by the road as the Jeep takes off down the road, until it's gone.

…

"Can you count to five on your hands?"

"Um…"

"You've done it before," I smile, "Remember? You use your finger on this hand to count all the fingers on the other hand. I'll do it with you."

I put my right index finger on my left pinky, waiting for Birdie to form the word "one" on her lips. "One, good job," I point to the next finger, "Two...three."

We each touch all fingers on one hand until we've counted five.

"Good job, Birdie!" I cheer.

She puts her fist up. "Poun' it."

I bump my fist to hers. "I'm proud of you. You're so smart."

"You're smart, too."

"Aw, thank you," I plant a sweet kiss on her head, "I think it's time to get out. Your fingers are a little pruny."

"Five minutes." She puts her hand up with all fingers spread out.

"Your bath water isn't even warm anymore," I say, stirring my hand in to feel the temperature, "You'll get a cold, if you stay in here much longer."

"So?"

"So? You'll get all stuffed up with boogers."

"No."

"Yes," I chuckle, "And you'll sneeze all day and have to take that purple medicine."

"I don't like that."

"Well, then you better get out then, huh?"

Birdie holds onto the sides of the tub as she carefully stands up. "Yeah."

I wrap the towel around her and help her out of the tub. "Stand right over there." I pull the plug and let the water drain.

"Mommy, when is Kit coming back?" Birdie shivers in her towel.

"Um, he's not, baby," I usher her out of the bathroom, "He moved, remember? To go live in town."

"Oh."

"Do you miss having someone to play with?" I ask as I get out some fresh pajamas.

"Yeah." She admits.

"Well," I help her into her underwear and pants, "You'll get to see him when we go into town for groceries."

"When can we go?"

"Soon."

She looks at me with big eyes. "Okay."

My smile lessens a little. Is she remembering this morning? How I snapped at her? I unfold her pajama shirt. "Here, let's get your shirt on."

Birdie lifts her arms up, so they can slide through the sleeves. "Ah, nice and warm!"

I snicker. "You're all nice and warm?"

"Yeah," She looks down at her toes, "But my feet."

"We'll put some socks on."

I read to Birdie in the rocking chair, gently rocking back and forth as I do. I hum the that song from Sound of Music that's stuck in my head when I finish reading. She falls asleep against me, so gingerly pick her up in my arms to put her to bed.

I layer her sheet, quilt, and extra blanket over her. I brush a small kiss on her cheek and then leave her room, turning off the lights.

My body feels sore and stiff, so I work my limbs as I go to the bedroom. I take a towel from the closet at the end. The room's empty; Dwight still hasn't come back from his perimeter check.

I strip my clothes off and throw them in the hamper. The water should be nice and warm. I let the water go without me under it for a minute as I tie my hair up before getting in. The steam rolls off the top of the curtain.

I step in and breathe out at the perfect heat coming from the shower head. I close my eyes as I let the water hit my skin.

Everyone left this morning and as much as I would have liked them to stay longer, I'm at okay with their leaving. Liz and I talked before we left, which I was happy for. I know she was upset with me, so it was a surprise when she asked if she could come visit around Birdie's birthday and Christmas. I would love that.

The door to the front closes.

I think Dwight might have said something to her. He said he talked to her. But why would he and what did he say?

I shut the water off and listen for a moment. I can make out him moving around the room. His footsteps hit the tile of the bathroom.

I pull the curtain back a bit. "Dwight?"

"You forgot your towel on the bed." He hands it to me.

"Thanks." I take it.

"Sure." He moves to the sink and turns the faucet on.

I get out of the shower, wrapping the towel around myself. Dwight washes his face and brushes his teeth like he usually does before bed. I pad out to get dressed in the bedroom. I smell cigarette smoke on him as I pass.

As I slip on my underwear, I catch a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror in the corner between the dresser and the window. I don't honestly look at myself through it very often, I don't see a need. I just throw whatever on and fix my hair out of my face and then go about my day with chores and Birdie.

I had almost forgotten that I had tattoos, which is odd, considering that I'm naked when I bathe. I had almost forgotten the little faded scar on my side from when I got cut on the destroyed mattress. It makes me touch the ones across my fingers.

My eyes flicker up in the mirror to the corner, where Dwight comes out of the bathroom. I put on my t-shirt and pull on my flannel pajamas that I hemmed just above the ankle. I move to the drawer and unscrew the lid off the jar of almond oil body butter that I got from a lady who got it from another lady who makes it at the Kingdom. It has a faint smell of neroli. I like that smell, but sometimes it reminds of when I was married. I smear some on my face, watching Dwight from the little mirror that rest on top of the dresser.

Maybe he spoke to her for the same reason he handed me my towel, or still brings me coffee in the morning, despite being mad at me. The same reason he doesn't tell Birdie how he got burned.

I top the butter, working a decent amount into my dry hands. "Lizzie said she'd like to come back in a few weeks for Birdie's birthday."

Dwight nods his head as he undresses.

"And Christmas."

"Okay."

I scratch my arm. "You wouldn't mind?"

"No."

My fingers smooth over where I just scratched. "You mean that?"

"Yes, I mean that." He looks over at me as he sits on the bed.

I nod. "Okay."

He gives me a careful look over. "Birdie asleep?"

"Yes." I answer, despite him already knowing the answer.

He nods his head.

"Um, she's been asking to go into town a lot lately," I inspect my hands, "I think she misses seeing Marisol's twins and Hal...So, I think maybe I'll plan to go down soon."

"Okay."

"You'd be okay with that?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

I shake my head mildly. "I don't know. I just thought I'd ask."

Dwight leans over to undo the laces of his boots. "You're the one who made the call to stop going."

"Yeah." I admit below earshot.

I stand there by the dresser with an anxious heart hardening in my chest. I don't want it to be like this anymore. This uncomfortable, unbearable disquietude in not speaking. I just want things to go back to how they were.

"Dwight?"

He turns his head to look at me as he pulls his boots off. "Huh?"

I pick at my thumb with my forefinger as my throat tightens. He stares gently, waiting. "I'm...I'm sorry."

Dwight's eyes appear to gather very slightly.

Tears gather in my eyes. "Things haven't been so good between us for the past few weeks and it's my fault and I'm sorry."

He trails his gaze down.

"I...I've had a lot of guilt weighing on me and I let it make me sharp with you and now Birdie."

At this, his brows really furrow. "What guilt?"

"And what I said about you wasn't fair or right," I continue, trying not to cry, "You do so much for our family and I appreciate every bit of it. More than you know." I blink a tear free and it travels south. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Dwight says earnestly.

My breath heaves shallowly as I wipe the tear off my face and walk over to him. He stands up and folds me into his arms. His hand presses my middle of my back.

"Don't cry, honey," He murmurs just past my ear, "It's alright."

"I'm sorry," I reply against him, "You were right; I shouldn't have been more careful."

"It's okay," Dwight assures me softly, "And hey,I'm sorry, too. I let my let my guard down."

I dry my eyes. "You don't have to be sorry, you were right."

"No, we were both wrong, Nan," He soothes my arm, "We were both to blame."

I look up at him as I brush off another tear. I nod my head.

"Now, what do you mean by holding onto guilt?" He sits back on the bed. "Guilt about what?"

I sit beside him. "About Negan."

"Negan? He furrows his brows. "What are you talking about? He yelled at you."

"I know, it's not about that," I sniff, "He wanted to see Birdie."

Dwight glances down. "Oh."

"He always asks about her."

"Does he?"

"Yeah," I sigh, taking his hand, "Birdie reminds me of him sometimes."

Dwight clasps his hand in mine. "When she swears?"

We both chuckle. I lay my head on his shoulder. "Yeah...and her stubbornness. And her demand for attention."

Dwight snickers. "Yeah, she's definitely headstrong."

I smile. "I love her so much."

"Me, too," He caresses his thumb against my hand, "Don't feel guilty, Nan."

I breathe. "Okay."

"You deserve to happy, after everything."

I smile more as I glance up at him. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

I kiss his lips. His warm hand touches my face.

After a few minutes of making out, I lay back and he climbs over onto corners of my mouth tips up and so does his because of it. We reconcile.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I know, I know, some of you if not all of you were wanting Negan, but I decided not to have him featured this chapter. He's got nothing to say. He'll be in next chapter.**

 **Kara315: I know, bad guy or not, Negan's still sympathetic in some aspects. Don't worry, he'll get to see her in the flesh eventually. I oddly like them arguing, too. They do need to work on communication, but I think it's apparent that they still love each other and will do nice things for one another when angry.**

 **CLTex: Yeah, I think it's important that he realizes that he wasn't a good husband. He may backslide from time to time to save face, but he knows he wronged Nan. And yes, Dwight and Nan's argument is a little childish with the silent treatment, but at least they've gotten over it for now!**

 **StTudnoBright: Oh, they didn't destroy the picture on purpose. Sorry for the confusion, I don't think they realized it was in the pocket. Negan was going out of it when he spoke up. I don't know if Rick's that cruel.**

 **PruRose: I think the shocker that her would be sister-in-law turned out to be alive may have triggered her a little bit, but she's steady. I don't disagree that she isn't frustrating at times, but she isn't still pining for Charlie, in fact her recent recollection turned sour in her mouth. She got out of that grave in Save Yourself.**


	9. Chapter 9

The purple morning is starting to break the dark sky. It'll be fully light out within the next thirty minutes.

Her finger sleepily traces circles in my skin. I open my eyes as I grow more awake because of it.

"You awake?"

"Yeah," She replies softly with a smile in her voice, "Good morning."

"Good morning," I yawn, peering down at her hair, "Want some coffee?"

"Mm, yeah, but not right now," Nan says, tilting her head to look at me, "I'm comfortable; I don't want to move just yet."

I snicker, holding her elbow. "Well, we've probably got half an hour before Birdie wakes up."

She giggles mischievously, slinking her leg between mine. "You think?"

I smile at her. "Yeah, if it's quiet."

Nan traipses hand her down, holding my side. "We can be quiet."

"Really?" I knit my brows, humored. "You don't wanna use this time to sleep in?"

She chuckles, sliding her hand down further. "I'm well-rested, thanks to our reconciliation last night." She bites her lip. "Both of them."

My smile cracks into a sleepy laugh. "The first time was make-up sex, the second time was just because I missed you."

"Missed me?"

"Yeah," I shift a little in bed, "I'm used to it just being the two of us plus Birdie, so when we quit speaking, I don't know, it feels sort of lonesome."

"You talked to Nate and his group while they were here. "

"Yeah, but it's not the same," I say, "I like talking to you."

She touches one side of my face as she kisses the other. "I like talking to you, too." She rests her head on me again. "And I know what you mean; it does get lonely."

"Yeah." I brush my thumb against her arm.

"I can at least go into town where there are other people, but it must be worse for you. You're completely isolated."

I think for a moment about that; its true.

"Do you ever wish you could go back?"

I exhale through my nose, shaking my head lightly. "Nah, even if I wasn't exiled, I couldn't stay. I'm where I want to be." I lift my head up a little to look at her. "Do you ever wish you could go back?"

Her lips shrug and she shakes her head. "No."

"No?"

"No." She confirms.

I nod my head.

"...Did you think I did?"

I give a nonchalant shrug of my shoulder. "I sometimes think you and Birdie might have a better life, if you weren't out here with me."

"What?" Nan moves to look more seriously at me. "Why would you think that?"

I shrug again. "Because that world is bigger and better...maybe safer. There's schools and hospitals and people; you said so yourself, why wouldn't anyone choose all that over this?"

Her brows furrow. "When did I say that?"

"That night after Hal took Nate and Isobel into town."

Nan's lips form an 'o' as she's suddenly reminded. "Oh, D, I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't talking about us. I'm happy here and so is Birdie; I would never think of going back."

"Yeah?"

She nods. "Yes," She sighs, frustrated with herself, "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to make you feel that way."

"Don't be, I made myself worry.."

Nan leans down and kisses my mouth, tender and apologetic. "I'm where I want to be."

"I love you."

She lays back down against me, bringing my arm around herself. "I love you, too, Dwight."

I turn her way and kiss her, wrapping her in my arms.

She puts her hand in the crook of my elbow, giggling. "Did I make you happy?"

I chuckle, shifting a little. "Sorry."

"You should only be sorry, if you let it go to waste," She pecks my lips, "We've got time."

I laugh quietly with her, moving with her on the bed. She parts her legs for me to get between. Her hands hold my arms.

We're still naked from the night before. She slides her feet up until their flat on the bed and her knees come to a point.

I reach down to direct myself to her center. Her

eyes close and she moans softly.

"Dwight."

When she opens her eyes again, she bores into mine with her sublime gaze. It's almost intoxicating, but that's how it always is with Nan.

I don't know how to describe being with her that would do her justice. She's just got a way about her. I felt it first back we were still at Sanctuary. It's in the way she puts her arms around me, in the way she holds me.

She breathes beside my ear, touching the back of my head as I thrust steadily, trying as well as her not to be too loud. She presses her other hand against my back, letting out a shallow, but hard moan.

I come suddenly, my eyes shut as I sit there, speechless. She exhales softly through her nose, letting out a exasperated giggle.

I chuckle as I catch my breath, feeling her place her hand on the scarred side of my face. I plant a kiss on her lips, pushing myself up a little.

"I don't think I'll be needing that morning cup of coffee," She wraps her arms around the back of my neck, "I'm wide awake now."

I snicker as she kisses me. "You'll change your mind when Birdie wants to play hide and seek."

She laughs quietly. "Yeah, maybe."

I peck her lips and start to sit up more. "I'll brew a pot."

"What's the rush?" She rakes her fingers through my hair, tucking it behind my ear. "It's only seven."

"We can't stay in bed all day."

"We can do whatever we want," Nan counters saucily , "Because we make the rules around here."

"Yeah, but we've got shit to do."

"We can put it off," She teases, "Throw caution to the wind and be irresponsible."

"Is that what we should do?" I put my mouth on hers. "Just shrug off preparing for winter?"

"Mm, yeah," She says, lazilly moving one of her legs down, "Who needs to eat everyday anyway?"

We share a laugh, before we go quiet, listening to the sound of a door creaking open down the hall. Next come footsteps.

"Dwight." Nan moves under me in a panic.

I follow the motion, since we're both naked and Birdie moves fast. The door to our bedroom pushes open just as I'm in my boxers and reaching for my t-shirt and Nan's got her pants on.

"Hey, Dad?"

I clear my throat, sitting in the edge of the bed. "Hey, Bird."

"Daddy, I'm thirsty." Birdie says in the doorway of the room.

"Okay," I nod, "Um, just give me a minute and I'll get you some water."

"Good morning." Nan greets her.

Birdie looks over and smiles. "G'morning!"

"Did you sleep in your room all night long?"

"Yeah," Birdie climbs on the bed and crawls toward her mother, "I was very sleepy."

"You must have been," Nan gives her a good morning kiss, "That, or you're growing up into a big girl."

"Yeah, I'm big now," Birdie wraps her arms around Nan, "I'm not a baby no more."

"You're my baby," Nan holds her, "Are you excited about your birthday? It's coming up pretty soon."

"When?"

"In two weeks," Nan answers, "How old are you gonna be?"

"Um, this many." Birdie holds up four fingers.

Nan smiles into a chuckle. "No, silly that's four. You're gonna be three, so put down one of those fingers."

Birdie folds two of her fingers but holds up one on her other hand. "Thwee!"

"Good job." Nan pats her bottom.

Birdie touches her hands to Nan's pink- flushed cheeks. "Mommy, your face is warm."

"It is?"

"Yeah."

Nan peeks over at me and smiles, before looking back at our daughter. "It just got a little hot in here is all."

"C'mon, Bird," I motion for her, "Let's go get breakfast going."

"I'm thirsty." Birdie reminds me, sliding off the bed on her tummy.

"I didn't forget."

"Guess spending the day in bed is a thing of the past, huh?"

I look back at Nan. "Not unless it includes Birdie."

She smiles, wrapping the flannel she left on the floor around herself. "Well, it's not like we got to do that before Birdie anyway, so no loss, right?"

"Daddy!" Birdie shouts for me from down the hall. "I need water!"

"Alright, alright," I walk down the hall towards her, "I'm coming."

"You cook breakfast today, not Mommy, okay?"

"Don't be rude to Mom," I tell her, filling one of her sip-cups with water, "She's a good cook."

"You better."

"I think you just like being picky for no good reason."

Birdie giggles. "No!"

Nan comes into the kitchen. "Brr! It's freezing in this house!"

"I'll start the fireplace in a minute." I say as I fill the coffee pot with water.

I turn the coffee on to brew and then I go out with the girls when they go to feed the chickens to get some firewood I chopped some days ago.

Back inside, I put a few logs into the fireplace, along with some kindling and dash of lighter fluid. I go to the kitchen to get into one of the drawers for matches.

When I open the drawer where I know I put the matches last, I'm met with white paper. It's not blank, it's one of Birdie's drawings.

I take it up and look at it. I recall Nan putting it in here a few weeks ago.

She and Birdie come through the kitchen door. Birdie is carrying one egg in both hands.

"Look, Dad," She shows me, "I helping."

"Careful, Birdie," Nan says closing the door behind her with the whole basket between her hip and forearm, "Don't drop it."

"I put it on the counter." She stands on her toes to try and place the egg up in the counter.

It almost rolls off, but I stop it. "Good job, Bird."

My eyes pick up to Nan's. Her eyes are looking at the picture in my hand.

She looks at me. "What's that?"

"One of Birdie's drawings."

"Here," Birdie puts her hand up, "I see."

I hand it to her. "You put it in here a while ago."

"Oh," Nan nods slowly, setting the eggs down, "Yeah."

"Hey, this for your friend, Mom." Birdie complains.

"I know, baby," Nan washes her hands, "I'll give it to him."

"Mommy's friend is very bad," Birdie tells me, handing the picture back, "He in time out."

"Oh," I nod my head, "Let's wash your hands."

"Why come?"

"Because you were touching the eggs."

"'Kay," She goes to the sink, "It cold in here, Daddy."

Nan helps Birdie wash her hands and then Birdie runs to her room. Nan dries her hands on the towel by the sink.

"Is it okay?"

I glance at her with raised brows. "Huh?"

She holds the towel, somewhat shy. "Is it okay that I give it to him?"

"Oh," I glance at the picture again, "To Negan?"

"Um...yeah," She walks over, "The last time we were in Alexandria and I went to see him, she wanted to come with me, so I had to make an excuse."

"I know."

"I didn't think she'd ask about him after we left," Nan adds, "She doesn't know anything about him...just that he's in timeout."

I nod.

"I won't give it to him, if you don't want me to."

"Why would I care?" I ask her.

"Well...because we said when it came to these things, we'd talk about it."

"It's only a drawing," I shrug, I give it to her, "It's no big deal. It's not like you're taking her to talk to him."

"No, I would never," She tells me, "Not without discussing it with you first."

I turn my head to look at her. "...Have you thought about it? Before?"

Nan meets my eyes. "No. In fact, that's what the argument was about last time I went; he wanted to see her and I told him it wasn't a good idea."

I nod, handing her the picture. "It's your call."

"It's both of ours," She tucks the picture back in the drawer and closes it, "You starting the fireplace?"

"Yeah." I look at the matchbox.

"Good," She shivers, wrapping her flannel close, "It's cold in here, Daddy."

I follow her into the living room, leaning on the arch. "Um, Nan?" I pause, unsure of what to say, or rather how to say it.

"What?" She asks.

I look her over. I shake my head with an exhale, treading to the fireplace. "I lost my train of thought. It was nothing."

"Oh, okay." She stands by as I light the fire.

I strike a match and hold the flame to the dry grass and fluid on the log. We just rekindled. Now's not the time to talk about it.

…

The door opens and I hear steps as he comes down to give me my breakfast. It's freezing as fuck in here, so I cling to my scratchy blanket as if it helps.

"It's time to get up." Rick says.

I inhale and exhale, before rolling over. "You must be going somewhere."

"What makes you say that?"

I walk over to the steaming powdered eggs, gravied mush, and stale biscuit. "Because the only times you come to see me anymore is when you're going somewhere, or you've just come back from somewhere." I pick up the tray. "To tell me to behave while you're gone, or else tell me what could've been, if I had behaved."

Rick scoffs. "I'm going to see how things are at the camp. See how the bridge is going."

"Ah, yes, the bridge, the bridge," I dig at my food, "The symbolic middle finger to me and all I was. Show me how much better you all are without me."

"After all this time, you're still that full of yourself that you can't face the truth?"

"All I can face is you," I look him in the eye, "See, I can't see shit past that window there, so aside from some whoopty-doo tomatoes, I can't see proof of any of what you're talking about."

"Well, that's the point, isn't it?" Rick retorts, "You only get to hear about it, you don't get to experience it. Live it."

I nod my head. "Guess, you better get to that bridge, sheriff."

Rick scoffs at me again, then turns to walk out.

I lick my lips, biting the bottom. "You know, I gotta say; you might think I belong here, because of all the shit I've done-"

"Where do you think you belong?" He stops to ask, incredulous.

I stare at him, not answering. "I may have been an asshole, but I don't know if I'd be cruel enough to do what you did."

Rick huffs. "What? Keep you alive?"

"No, asshole, I'm talking about you ruining the picture of my daughter in the wash," I tell him, angry, "That was all I had to remember her by."

He looks at me with a solemn face. The kind of face that's lost it's guts when the person realizes something.

"It was in the pocket of my suit."

"I didn't know." He answers with a raspy tone.

"I told you as you were taking it out."

"I didn't hear you say that," Rick replies, "You passed out."

I want to snap back, but I hadn't considered that. "...Well, it's gone now."

He nods slightly. "I didn't know it was there."

I scoff, "Yeah, well…" I look down at my food, "Isn't it a rule of thumb to check pockets before you do the laundry?"

He says nothing to that. He just turns to leave again.

I spoon some of the gravy mush into my mouth."She has my eyes."

Rick halts at the steps.

"And she hated when anyone other than Nan would hold her," I stir the mush around, setting the spoon down, "That's about all I can remember, since I hit my head…every time I try to picture her, I don't know if I actually am, or if I'm just seeing some random baby's face."

He looks down at the ground like he's inspecting it.

"I needed that picture to keep me sharp."

Rick shifts his body and walks up the steps. My eyes start to get all teared up. I drop my tray on the ground, too frustrated to eat.

I lay my head against the wall. I try to picture my daughter's face, at least the face I think I can remember. She has my eyes. That's as far as I can get.

I bring my hands up and hang my head to cradle in them. My head is killing me again. My concussion healed but I still get headaches when I get to thinking.

I don't know how much more I can take.

…

We laugh with a quiet breathlessness. I touch the back of his head, feeling his soft, but straggly hair.

"We should fight more often," I pant, chuckling with him, "It really pays off."

Dwight pauses his choppy breathing to kiss me. He looks down at me. "Want to?"

A smile grows from ear to ear on my face. "What would we fight about?"

"Mm, maybe the way you cut toast and sandwiches the wrong way, or-"

"How is the way I cut toast or bread wrong?" I ask, humored.

"You've got it all backwards," Dwight muses, "you cut toast in triangles and sandwiches straight down the middle."

"Into rectangles?"

"Yeah, you cut toast into rectangles and sandwiches into triangles," He chuckles, "it's all wrong."

"Really?" I raise my brow, "What would switching the shapes around do? Make them taste better?"

"No, but-"

"Then what's the big deal?"

"It's just not how you do it."

I scan his eyes and find he's both serious and being funny. "I didn't know there was an ordinance that made this law."

"There isn't, you smart ass," Dwight laughs, pecking my lips as he towers over me, "It's just common sense."

"Oh, baby, I think you meant nonsense."

"Shut up." He kisses me again, before rolling off me.

I roll to the side to lay with him. "So, now that we've had our fight, when can we make up?"

"Let's sit on it for a few days."

"Deal." I breathe.

"Think you might go to town soon?" Dwight inquires after a few minutes.

"Um, I don't know," I shrug against him, "maybe in two weeks when I've got to get some stuff for Birdie's and yours birthdays."

"Don't worry about me," He pats my shoulder, "Just worry about Birdie."

"You don't want a cake?"

"We can eat whatever's left over from Birdie's birthday."

"But that's a four day difference." I mildly argue.

"We'll put it in the fridge."

"How come you don't want me to make you a cake?"

He shrugs. "I'll only be thirty-five."

"So?"

"It's no big deal."

"Yeah, but it's your birthday," I sit up to look at him, "You should have your own cake _and_ blow out your own candles instead of letting Birdie do it."

"She likes to."

"She's gonna be that kid that blows out the candles at other kids' birthday parties."

At that, Dwight chuckles. "I wouldn't put it past her."

I laugh a little. Then my smile starts to dwindle as I look at the sheets between us. "If she ever gets invited to any."

He touches my arm. "She will."

"She hasn't," I look at him, "Not even when Marisol's twins have their birthday."

"You said she just does what we do for Birdie. It's just a family thing."

I nod resting my cheek against my shoulder. "Yeah...I'm just being silly. A mom," I lay back down, "I just want her to have friends."

"She does have friends."

I twist my mouth. "Aside from the twins, I think all her other friendships are kind of forced."

"Well… a lot of kids are forced to play other kids by their parents, right? Especially kids Birdie's age."

I sigh, sitting up again. "D, I don't want other kids to be forced to play her. I want them to like her and want to be her friend, because they want to."

"Who didn't want to be her friend?"

"I don't know," I shrug, looking at my fingers, "As far I can tell, the kids she plays with in town seem to like her okay."

"Well, then, what are you losing sleep over it for?"

I shrug my shoulders again. "I just think about it a lot…I'm always afraid of people who don't already know, or don't have some clue will find out and tell their kids they can't play with her anymore."

Dwight doesn't say anything.

"I don't want her to be outcasted, because of something she can't control."

I feel his fingers slide tenderly across my back. He doesn't say anything, but it's still comforting. I think he might have the same concerns, but never says so, out of care that it'll upset me.

I breathe. "I guess we should put on clothes. Just in case she wakes up."

"Yeah."

We throw on something to sleep in and then crawl back into bed. I lay on my side and Dwight holds me.

"Dwight?"

"Hm?"

I chew my lip. "Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing, it's stupid."

"Just tell me."

"Remember when I came back from town the last time and I said wanted something, but I lost my train of thought."

"Yeah."

"Well, I remembered what it was that I wanted," l tell him, "Actually, I never forgot, I just…changed my mind about saying it."

"What was it?"

I breathe to ready myself. "I want to-"

A loud slapping sound from outside hits the house. We both look up towards the door. The violent wind howls outside.

"It's that damn screen door," Dwight moves out of bed, "I'll be right back."

I watch as he goes out of the room to go fix the screen door that couples with the kitchen door. A few seconds later, I hear Birdie calling for me, so I get out of bed to go fetch her.

"Mommy!"

"What's the matter?" I ask, coming into her bedroom.

"I heared a noise," She says in a low, timid voice as she points towards the door, "I don't like it."

"It's just the screen door, baby," I flick on a light, "Daddy's fixing it."

"The door?"

"Yeah, nothing to be scared of," I sit down on her bed, patting her blanketed legs, "The wind just blew it back."

"Oh," Birdie says, "That not scary."

I smile. "No, it's not."

"Jerk wind."

I chuckle, feeling her hands to make sure she's warm enough. "Jerk wind."

"Alright," Dwight yawns by the door, "I locked the screen door."

"Okay," I look back to Birdie, "Are you gonna go back to sleep, or do you wanna sleep in our room?"

"Um, your room." She reaches her hands up, so I pick her up and set her on my hip. "You want Lamby?"

"No, my duck." She points to the hand-carved wooden duck block in her bed.

"Oh, okay." I take up the block and she holds it.

Dwight's already back in the bedroom, lying on the bed.

"It was a good idea to get dressed."

"Yeah." He agrees.

"Why was you naked?" Birdie enters the conversation, confused.

"Um, just so we could put on our pajamas." I tell her, setting her down on the bed.

"Oh," Birdie peels back the layers of blankets and sheets at the end of the bed, "It too cold to be naked."

"Yeah, you're right." I reply to her, smiling over at Dwight.

"Alright," Birdie says, snuggled down, "Turn the light off."

"You got it." I turn the lights off and get back into bed.

I smile at Dwight as we lay in the dark with Birdie at our feet.

"G'night."

"Goodnight, Birdie."

I didn't get the chance to tell him that I wanted to start a new chapter of our life here. It's been on my mind for a while now and for a while, I've been wanting to approach him about it. But I didn't, because part of me felt that I only wanted to know, because of what Negan said to me. Another part of me felt it was also too silly to ask, remembering what I had told him in response.

But, over the past few months, even when we weren't talking, it's all I've thought about. Discovering very suddenly that my former group and Charlie's sister were alive and here, and then them planning on leaving, stirred things up in our quiet neck of the woods, but there were things that went undisturbed. Things that made me absolutely positive that this is what I want.

Dwight rolls to his side, his back facing me. I smile and worm my way to him, putting my arm over him. I smile more when I feel his calloused hand take mine for a soft moment. Yes, I know I want this.

But we can talk about it later.

…

The wind shakes a few leaves from the trees. Fall's in full swing and it might be winter soon. I don't know, I've lost track of time. I only know the hours tick by with my three square meals that are usually punctual. I know it's been almost a week when they drag that tub in. But I don't know the month, or day, or day of the week. I'm not sure I care much anymore.

A little girl runs by, laughing. Her father calls her by her name, which I recognize telling her to wait up from him. I recognize the man as he passes, but I forgot his name. I know the little girl's name, because I remember one of my people having a girl by the same name.

I step away from the window and go back to my bed. I run my hand over my head as I sit down. Sometimes, my head convinces me that when I hear that girl's laugh, or hear her or that Grimes kid call for their dads, that it's actually mine calling for me. But it never is, I know that.

I try to remember what Nan told me about our daughter the last time we spoke. She told me things about her; something about green...maybe. I don't know.

I swallow hard. All I can seem to remember about that day is that I called her a cunt, after she came to tell me about Birdie. I wanted more than that, but I couldn't have it. I wanted to see her, I wanted to meet her, but I can't.

It's fair. I can't deny that anymore. I can't remember the things I want to remember; all I remember is all I want to forget. I wasn't the man I thought I was, the man I wanted to be. I was everything they said I was. A tyrant, a user, a murderer.

I didn't mean for it to be that way. The world made it have to be that way, the people made it have to be that way. At least that's what I would tell myself. But it was a lie.

I thought I knew shit, that my way was the only way that would work, but I don't fucking know anymore. I feel the pressure of tears in my eyes, so I rub them. That's what I can remember; Nan pleading with me to change my mind, holding the baby in one arm as she desperately clutched the sleeve of my jacket. The baby's who's face I'm not sure I remember.

My baby, who can walk and talk and maybe likes the color green. Or was it orange? I can't remember and it's eating me up. I would know this shit, if I had listened to her. If had just listened, instead of deciding that it wasn't good enough and that I wanted more.

That was the thing about Nan; I never listened to her and I always wanted more from her than she could give me and way more than I was willing to give back. If had listened to her that day and changed my mind, I might still have ended up here, but maybe I would've been granted permission to see my little girl.

Maybe I would've been able to see her walk and talk for myself. Maybe I would've been able to get to know her. Maybe she would've called me dad.

I cover my face with my hands and cry. My head hurts and I can't remember her face. I keep hearing Lucille tell me to stop crying, because I'm embarrassing her, but I can't help it. I miss her more nowadays than ever. I want to see her.

…

I pick two tomatoes off one of our vines for breakfast and lunch. The garden is looking healthy, but a little bare. Winter's coming in about two or three weeks.

I go back inside the house to make breakfast. I set the eggs I collected and the tomatoes on the counter to wash them.

I hear Nan's voice somewhere in the house. It's sounds like a faint, nurturing murmur. She gets a small, whine as a reply. I let the eggs sit in the drainer in the sink and head that way.

They're in the bathroom. Birdie sits on top of the toilet cover in her pajamas. Her hair's a mess from sleep and she's got flushed cheeks. She slouches as Nan turns on the faucet to the tub.

"Hey." I call over the roar of the water.

Nan, sitting on the edge of the tub, feeling the water, looks over at me. "Hey."

"What's going on?"

"Birdie's not feeling well," She says, "She's a little warm again."

"Does she have a cough?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know, she just woke up and she said her head hurt."

I walk into the bathroom. "You don't feel good?"

"Mm-mm." Birdie rubs her eyes. "My head hurts, Daddy."

"Oh, no," I pick her up and hold her, "I'm sorry, baby."

She's warm against me. She wraps her limbs around me as I softly pat her back.

"I'm gonna give her a baby aspirin."

"Did you check her temp?"

"It's only 100."

I nod. "You think she might need a doctor?"

Nan shrugs, turning off the water. "I'll keep an eye on her today, before I decide. Maybe it's just a little grogginess from playing outside yesterday."

I nod again, "Okay."

An hour later, Nan carries Birdie to the living room, where she lays her on the couch, so she can watch her movie.

"You want me to make her oatmeal?"

"Yeah, she'll like that." Nan sighs, getting some water.

"We're running low on food'" I tell her as I get the light can of oatmeal, "I think it's time you plan a trip."

"Yeah," She exhales, "Birdie's birthday is in a few days. I do need to go down."

"Why not head that way tomorrow?" I suggest, clicking on the stove. "You can take Birdie to see the doctor."

She nods, putting her mouth to her glass. "She has been wanting to go."

I glance over at her. "You'll be okay?"

Nan meets my gaze. "Yes, I'll be fine."

"Okay," I turn to look at the oatmeal in the pot, "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! In case that last part was confusing, there was a time jump.**

 **CLTex: I'm glad they made up, too. I think they both have such tender qualities that make them sort of awkward with this situation, though Dwight is more mature about navigating through/around it, which is maybe because he was in a long-term relationship that wasn't muddled with infidelity, as well as not having to manage a mental illness. Nan's been able to shrug off some of the issues she dealt with in SY, but these newer ones that she's going to face(this was just a toe in the water for what's to come) will be difficult, though I think she may come out stronger.**

 **Kara315: Good to know you like their day to day life. I feel like it sometimes seems a bit recyled, but living out in the middle of what was Camden has afforded them a little of the everyday monotony that life before yielded. But I think it's safe to say that things are gonna shake up soon. I mean, Negan's gonna get out and he's not gonna just go back to his cell like he did in the show. He's gonna be on the lookout for his family.**

 **PruRose: I love how frustrated you get with my story, it makes me feel like a fairly decent writer to know my stories (albeit fanfics) stirs up such emotion :) But, unfortunately, I didn't introduce these characters for them to suddenly disappear. They'll serve a purpose, but I think you may have misinterpreted it to be part of the Charlie arc from SY. It's not; as I mentioned before, that arc ended when she "buried" him in SY. Nan isn't pining after him, she's just glad to see that a loved one is still alive. As for Sherry; someone burned down the cabin who wore lipstick and the only person in that group who was seen smoking was Nate… And as for Nan's softer nature, I don't think it equals weakness. Not everyone in the comics/show are these tough, badass fighters, but that doesn't diminish their existence. This is what appeals to both Dwight and Negan, who shares this great want/need. Being said, I don't feel Pippa would disparage Nan, simply because they didn't change the same way in the ZA, especially not when Pippa herself had a myriad of issues at the beginning.**


	10. Chapter 10

I wake up in the middle of the night from another dream. This isn't the same bad dream I was having before, this one's taken its place lately. I think it's maybe worse.

I dreamt I got out of this goddamn place. I dreamt I walked and walked for god knows hows long in the hot sun on the hot road and in the freezing cold against the freezing wind. I walked until I came up on a quaint little house surrounded by woods. The sun peeked through to illuminate the soft hue of the outside. It looks like some place I'd live, or like to live.

I approach the window and look in. I see three people, a man, a woman, and a child through an square archway in what looks like the kitchen.

The woman's cutting pancakes this way and that way at the table, while the child, a little girl, sits and watches. She says something, pointing to a glass jar on the table that's filled with a rich, golden substance. The woman smiles a warm, ethereal smile, the kind mothers ought to have, and says something back with her eyes still on the pancakes. She then sets the fork and knife down and reaches for the jar, drizzling syrup in a circular motion over the pancakes.

As she sets it in front of the little girl, the man places a cup of coffee at her place, kissing her as she thanks him. He then sits with his back to me. The little girl looks his way with a great big sticky smile on her face. Her eyes are radiant as she offers a square of soppy pancake to the man. He leans over and she feeds it to him with an amused laugh.

She laughs even more when he plants a soft kiss on her open hand. I used to laugh like that.

The woman smiles into her coffee as she speaks to the man. He must say something to her, because her smile grows and I can make out her lips telling him how she loves him.

The only thing I do hear, aside from the laughter, is the little girl say "Daddy" towards the man. He turns his head and then gets up from the table and walks around. He comes back into sight, putting a cup of water down on the table.

The little girl looks up as he passes to sit back down, so he kisses her forehead. The women smiles. The little girl admires him as he has a seat. She says "Daddy" again.

That word echoes in my ear as I look at the little smiling, happy girl with radiant eyes with deep grief. I wake up at some point then.

I lay awake listening to the crickets with the same fucking loss in my tired chest, unable to go back to sleep.

…

"Dwight!" I run into the room. "Dwight!" I shake his arm. "Dwight, wake up!"

"What?" He pulls out of sleep. "What is it?"

"It's Birdie," I tell him with a panic, "I-I woke up to her crying and I went in to check on her and she says her head hurts and she threw up in her bed a-and she's burning up real bad."

Dwight gets out of bed. "Where's she at?"

"Sh-she cried that she wanted to lay down, so I laid her on the bed after I stripped it."

I follow Dwight back into Birdie's bedroom. She's sitting on her knees with her duck block in her hand, crying with misery.

"What's the matter, baby?" Dwight asks her as he goes to the bed.

"I-I pooped!" She sobs.

The smell has both of us realizing that she inadvertently soiled herself in the time that it took me to wake Dwight up and get back. I grab clothes out of her drawer, while Dwight helps her out of the ones she's in.

"Babe, go get a washcloth."

I nod and hurriedly go run a wash cloth from the bathroom under warm water. I run back into the room, so he can clean her off.

He feels her forehead as she continues to cry inconsolably. "She needs a doctor, Nan."

I inhale, trying not to get upset in front of her. I nod my head. "Yeah."

He picks her up. "Go get dressed, I'll get her dressed and ready to go."

I go to the bedroom. I dress faster than I ever dressed in my life, throwing on the first thing I touch in the drawers. I curse as I fumble with buttons, zippers and hooks. I then hurry out of the room, back to Birdie.

Dwight's holding her to him as he sways in a comforting motion, shushing her. She throws up a little over his shoulder, which makes her cry even more. "You ready?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'll take her so you can change."

"I'm going with you." He says over her sobs, handing her to me.

"It's okay, baby," I take her from him, "D, you can't go."

"Yes, I can and I am," He argues as he pulls off the soiled shirt, "I'll drive, so you can hopefully get her to sleep."

"Daryl will kill you, if he sees you."

"Our daughter is sick," He grabs Birdie's favorite blanket and the duck block that were spared when she vomited on the bed, "He can kill me, if wants, I'm going to make sure she's okay."

Birdie takes the duck from him even though it doesn't seem to stop her from crying in my ear.

"Dwight-"

"Nan, stop arguing and just get her to the truck." He lays the blanket over my shoulder before leaving the room.

I pat Birdie's back as I head to the front of the house.

"Mommy!" She wails against my shoulder. "My head hurts!"

"I know, honey, I'm sorry," I open the front door, "We're gonna go see the doctor to make you better, okay?"

"I don't wanna go in the car!"

"Sh, Birdie, we have to, so we can see the doctor."

"No!" Birdie cries hysterically. "I don't want to!"

I open the door to the back of the truck and climb in with her. She clings to me, but manage to gently peel her off to get her into her car seat. I shush her soothingly as I bring the straps around her and buckle them into place.

"It's okay, baby." I pet her burning forehead.

"Here's your jacket." Dwight tosses my jacket on the passenger's side as he climbs into the driver's seat.

I look at him in the rear view mirror. "Dwight."

"Close the door."

I exhale through my nose. I climb out of the back seat.

"What are you doing?" He shouts. "Come on, Nan, we gotta go!"

"Get out of the car," I reply, "You can't go with us."

"Nan, I-"

"No, I can't take that risk, Dwight," I cut him off, peering into the back where Birdie's melting, "I know you would but I wouldn't. I can't. I need you." My eyes meet his. "So, get out of the car; I can take her by myself."

Dwight stares, argumentative.

"Look, she needs a doctor right now," I add strongly, "I need to go, so you need to get out."

He glances over his shoulder, before sighing. He nods and gets out of the car. I get into the driver's seat and shut the door.

"Hey!"

I roll down the window.

"I'll turn the radio on in the garage," He says, "Channel three. You let me know."

I nod my head. "Okay."

He licks his lip, stressed. "Okay."

"Daddy!" Birdie calls for him, upset to see him outside.

He puts his hand up. "It's okay, Birdie."

"No, Daddy!"

"I love you," He tells her, "Go."

I drive off out of the driveway and once I hit the road, I floor it

…

"Hal?" I speak into the walkie. "Hal? Do you copy? Does anyone from Sanctuary copy?"

I've been driving for two hours. It's daybreak now. Birdie cried for a solid hour and a half until she exhausted herself and fell asleep. Even now, she whimpers as she rests in her car seat. From the rear view mirror, I see her flushed cheeks and sweat beading on her forehead.

I've had to stay calm. All through the drive, I've been telling her it's okay, shushing her, and singing in a cracked voice as I reach one hand back to soothe her foot.

I had to stop and strip her down from her pajamas, after she go sick in the car. I didn't have anything else but my shirt under my flannel, so I had to give her that. A walker heard her unwell cries and my calming tone. I had to slam the door shut and fight it off, shoving it to the ground and stomping its head in with more force than it normally takes due to my nerves heightening at the sound of Birdie in the car.

I almost cried but I stopped myself. Not because I killed the walker, but because my emotions broke through as my boot crushed open the skull. I've had to be calm, but internally I'm a mess.

I'm afraid. Birdie's been sick before, but not this sick. Not so sick that she's just sat and cried in discomfort like this.

"Nan?" Hal calls over the radio, puzzled. "That you?"

"Yes, yes, it's me," I answer, "Is Harlan at The Sanctuary?"

"Harlan? No, he left yesterday. Why?"

"Fuck," I curse under my breath, "I need a doctor. Birdie's really sick. I was on my way there, because it's the end of the month."

"How sick?"

"I don't know, but she's says her head hurts and she's got a fever," I peer over at her through the mirror, "I'm really worried, Hal."

"Head to Alexandria," He tells me, "I'll meet you as soon as I can."

"Okay," I fight off tears of relief, "I'll be there."

I drive in the direction of Alexandria. It takes me fifteen minutes to get there.

There's no one at the top of the wall, so I honk. I check to make sure I didn't wake Birdie. She stirs in her seat, knitting her brows. I honk again with urgency. Someone comes to the top of the gates.

"Hello?"

"Open the gates!" I call up. "My daughter needs to see the doctor!"

The woman looks confused, like maybe she didn't hear me. "What?"

"I need a doctor!" I yell louder. "My daughter is sick! Open up!"

The gates draw open. I get into the truck and drive it through, parking haphazardly to the side. I hurry to the backseat to get Birdie.

"Is the doctor here?"

"Yeah, I'll go tell him you need help." The woman runs ahead of me.

"Mommy?"

"It's okay, Birdie," I pat her back, wrapping the blanket over her, "Mommy's got you."

"My head hurts." She whines, holding onto me.

"I know, baby." I tread as fast as I can to the doctor's house, where the hospital is in a wing downstairs.

People come out of their homes, likely hearing the commotion. When I enter the infirmary, Siddiq is just coming down the stairs in his pajamas.

"What are her symptoms?"

I follow him into the hospital. "Fever, vomiting, diarrhea, and headaches."

"Anything else?"

I set her down on the bed. "I-I don't know. She was a little flush yesterday and then she woke up crying a few hours ago that her head hurt and she's been throwing up." I hold her hand when she wants to be picked up. "I've never seen her sick like this before."

Siddiq pulls the thermometer out of a drawer. "Has she eaten anything that may have been uncooked or spoiled? Or maybe any water that wasn't purified?"

"No, no, we make sure everything is safe before we eat it," I tell him, easing Birdie from getting up from the bed, "And we make sure we wash our hands before cooking and eating."

"Mommy!" Birdie cries. "Pick me up!"

"The doctor needs to take a look at you, sweetheart," I try to get her to sit down again, "It'll go by fast, if you sit still, please."

"Birdie, can you sit still for me real quick, so I can take your temperature?" Siddiq asks her in a kind tone. "It'll only take a few seconds."

"No, I want my mommy!" Birdie shakes her head. "Mommy!"

"Birdie, it's okay, I'm right here."

"You can hold her, if you want," Siddiq tells me, "If it'll keep her calm."

I pick her up and then sit down on the bed with her in my arms. "Sh, it's alright, Birdie. The doctor needs to take your temperature."

"No!"

"If you be good and let him examine you, then I'll call Hal and let him come see you, okay?" I brush tears from her eyes, "And I'll get you a honey sucker."

Birdie's breathing juts as she tries to compose herself.

"I know your head hurts and you don't feel good, baby, but if we don't let the doctor look at you, then it's not gonna get any better."

She whines and her shoulder slump. "I want Daddy."

"Well, the sooner you see the doctor, the sooner we can go home. Deal?"

Birdie's lip quivers, but she nods. "Yeah."

"Good girl," I kiss her cheek, "Now, let Siddiq take you temperature."

Siddiq takes her temperature, which like always, proves to be difficult. When it beeps, he pulls it out of her mouth and looks at it. "103."

"What?" I look urgently at him.

"We need to bring it down," He goes over to his desk, "I want to listen to her heart and take a look at her eyes, mouth, and ears."

"Of course." I pat her back as she puts her arms around me.

"Has she seemed sluggish at all?" He sticks the end of the stethoscope under the t-shirt she's wearing to listen to her heart. "Any loss of appetite, or interest in playing?"

"Yes, but I figured it was just because she was getting a cold," I turn her so he can listen to her heart from that side, "She was playing outside a lot the day before."

"Heart sounds a little fast, but normal," He notes, "No chest pain?"

"Not that she's said," I answer, "Birdie, does your chest hurt?"

She shakes her head. "My head hurts."

The doctor shines a light in her eyes and then mouth, carefully peering into each. He then takes an auriscope and looks in her ears, which she likes no more than the light being shined in her eyes.

"Everything's looking relatively normal," Siddie exhales, returning to his desk, "Except the fever and headache which are I'm most worried about." He opens the medicine cabinet. "You said she's been vomiting and has had diarrhea?"

"Yes," I nod, holding her in my arms as she starts to calm down enough to maybe sleep, "What do you think is the matter?"

"Well, she's got all the symptoms of a bad fever," He disposes, "In children, it can be scary like this."

"So, it's serious?" I try to keep my voice unwavered as she moves.

"We need to get the fever down," He replies, "Kids are more vulnerable to illnesses nowadays without vaccines to help protect their immune systems. I've treated some bad cases."

"Worse than her?"

He looks over and when he sees my face, he nods. "Yes, worse than Birdie, but that doesn't mean it can't get worse, if you don't reduce the fever."

I glance down at her. I have to smile, because she's looking up at me with drowsy eyes.

"Mommy?" She croaks.

"You did so good, Bird," I smooth my hand over her sweaty hair, "I'm very proud of you."

"I'm tired, Mommy."

"Okay," I smile, "The doctor is gonna give you some medicine and then you can get some rest."

"I don't like medicine."

"It'll make you feel better."

"Sit her up, please."

I prop Birdie up into a sitting position. The generic smell of banana makes my stomach roll.

"Alright, Birdie," Siddiq holds up the srignie, "Open wide."

I hold my own urge to vomit at the potent fruity smell, turning my head away to the window as he feeds the awful stuff into Birdie's mouth. Her coughs and gags of distaste make me have to stifle a dry heave.

"That's yucky!" Birdie cries out, sticking her tongue out in disgust.

"I know, but you did a good job," Siddiq smiles at her, "Do you feel warm?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, well, you have one of two choices," He tells her, "You can lie down for a little bit and let your mommy put a rag on your forehead, or you can take a bath and then lie down. Which one do you want to do?"

"Baff."

"Good choice." He smiles, before glancing up at me. "I'll bring the basin."

…

"Nan?"

My eyes move behind my lids at the sound of my name.

"Nan?" There it is again. "Nan?"

I force my heavy eyes to open. "Hal?"

"Hey," He says with an anxious rush to his whispered voice, "What's wrong with her?"

I glance down at my daughter lying close to me in this cramped bed, asleep with a rag across her forehead. "Right now, the doctor says its just a fever."

"Just a fever?"

"Yeah, but he said a lot of kids get them bad these days." I take the rag off her to feel her forehead. It's clammy because of the wet rag, but there's still some warmth penetrating through. "He wants to keep her here, until the fever's gone."

"How long will that take?"

I shrug, putting the cloth back on her, while also bringing her blanket up enough so she won't get too cold. "Don't know."

"Jesus," He exhales, "Poor little girl."

"Yeah." I mouth silently, watching her sleep.

"Well, I'm here," Hal says after a minute, "You need anything, I've got you covered, mate."

I smile bleakly. "Thanks."

He smiles systematically back at me, before looking back at Birdie. "Where's Dwight?"

My smile lowers and my eyes go back my daughter as I feel like I could cry. "He's at home."

"What?"

"I told him he had to stay there," I swallow the raw lump in my throat, "Daryl would kill him, if he saw him here, so I...made him stay put."

"Nan, this is different," Hal protests, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "Your kid's sick."

"I know, but I can't take the chance of that not meaning shit to Daryl," I look at him, "You've said yourself that he's not always easy to work with."

"No, but…" He sighs, "I don't know."

I breath from my nose. "Could you do me favor?"

Hal looks over. "Anything."

Tears break through. "Could you go out there and just let D know what's going on? I tried my radio, but it's not reaching him in here."

"Yeah, of course," He nods his head, "You want me to grab some stuff while I'm there?"

"Yeah," I rasp, "Birdie needs some pajamas and I'll need something to change into."

"You got it," Hal rises from the bed, "I'll go now."

"We were planning on coming down today, before Birdie, so we've got some stuff set aside, if you could bring it down, too. Dwight will get it for you."

"Okay," He kisses my forehead, "I'll bring you and Pidge some clothes and then I'll get the rest settled for you, eh? Get your shopping done."

"You're the best," I smile at him, touching his arm, "Extraordinary."

"Don't cry, Anna," He chuckles hushfully, "It's okay."

I wipe the tear off my cheek. "I'm just tired is all. The last few hours have been terrifying."

Hal musses my hair, consoling me.

I lick my lips. "She's never been sick like this before….I just...I'm scared for her."

"She's gonna sweat it out, love," Hal assures me, "I know it's got to be scary, but she'll get through it."

I nod my head.

"Alright, I'm gonna go," He walks towards the entrance, "I'll be back before you know it."

"Thank you."

Birdie starts move as Hal leaves. I shush very quietly so she'll keep sleeping. While my heart hurts for her, I'm glad she's relaxed enough to sleep.

I lay my head back against the pillow and feel my eyes start to fade. My stomach feels sour, like I need to throw up, but I breathe very calmly to keep from having to get up.

…

The rooster struts around the coop. He doesn't mind Nan and Birdie, but he keeps flapping his wings at me to try to scare me off. But the chickens have to be fed and the eggs have to be collected.

When that chore is done, I walk around to the garage to check the radio. We have a CB radio that's regular antenna reaches about a twenty-five mile radius, but I hooked up an antenna that has somehow managed to reach the other communities. It doesn't always work and sometimes it's too staticy to hear what anyone's saying, but I'm hoping Nan will try.

I haven't slept since she left with Birdie hours ago. I spent the early hours pacing, trying to think of something that needs to be done, or at least can be done to kill time. The bad thing about staying on top of everything is that when you need something to do, there's nothing to do. The chickens were all that needed tending too. I put all the greenhouse boxes over the plants to try to keep them growing through the cold a few days ago. That doesn't always work either, but it stops them from dying right out.

Normally, I'd go fishing or hunting, or down to the barriers or do redirect, but I can't today. I don't want to be too far from home, in case Nan can get through.

I turn the radio on. "Nan, do you copy?"

No response, just a low, sizzling static.

I set the handheld piece down on the table. I pace for a minute. It might take her a minute to get through. I have a seat on the trunk in the middle of the garage. When I remember that the trunk has a place off to the side, I stand up to push it there. Something to do.

As I move it, I realize the latches aren't buckled down. She must have been in it recently. Or maybe not, I don't remember if she ever close them down from the last time she was in it.

I glance over at the radio and then back at the trunk.

Part of me is saying it's not right to go through the trunk, but the other part is reminding me that I've been in there before. It's not like Nan's got private stuff inside; just random things she carried over from The Sanctuary. Then why do I want to open it?

I bite my lip and open the trunk. Yep, just the same old crap she always keeps in here. I look at the tattered pocket on the inside of the lid. I stick my fingers inside, feeling for the ring, but I don't find it. That's weird, considering she doesn't have it in the bathroom drawer anymore. Oh, well.

As I go to close the trunk, my eyes catch sight of the camera. I take it out and then sit on the trunk. It's something to do.

When I turn it on, the first video that pops up is the one she must have been watching last. I knit my brows as I recognize the color of the wall in the background. I press the play button.

I watch the whole video through. It's one I've seen before, but it still makes me comfortable. I'm not sure I know what aspect about it makes me cringe the most. It doesn't matter now, but something about it still irks me.

The sound of a car coming up the road gets my attention. I set the camera back into the trunk and walk out of the garage. It's the same car Hal drove here weeks ago.

…

I watch the outside, curious. People pass by, but no one's said anything that yields any useful information about what's going on. I've noticed a shadow from the terrace door window moving with the day for a few hours, but nobody's come in.

A kid walks by my window and over out of sight. I hear talking, but I can't make out what's being said. My hearing's a little off distance wise. She passes again.

"Hey, kid," I call to her, both trying to get her attention and also not get my guard's attention, "Kid!"

The kid stops in her tracks and turns.

"Come here a minute."

The kid glances to her left and then walks over with furrowed brows. "What do you want?"

"What the hell's going on out there?" I ask her. "Who's standing by my door and why? Anything to do with that car horn I heard earlier?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to you."

"Then why'd you come over?"

She shrugs. "You told me, too."

I huff. "Hell, you ever hear you're not supposed to shit like that around strangers?"

"You're in jail," The kid retorts, "I figured it didn't matter, because you're locked up."

I can't help but smirk at that. "Fair point."

"I have to go." She goes to walk away.

"Hey, wait, you didn't answer my question."

"It's my mom," She answers, "Aunt Maggie's coming."

I turn my head back to the four walls of my cell. The Widow. I walk to my cot. I look over at the shadow on the other side, following it's outline up to the door. I then sit down, leaning my back against the wall.

I run my fingers along my mouth. I can't help but smile a little.

…

I dry my hair with the towel, which smells fresh and clean. I want to wrap it around me even though I'm dressed. I used to do that as a kid; I'd get into the laundry and steal a nice clean towel and then wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.

"Mommy," Birdie reaches her arms up, "Pick me up."

I set the towel down and hoist Birdie up in my arms. I open the door to the bathroom and the air bites at my showered flesh. I carry Birdie back to the infirmary, where the doctor's changed the bedding on the bed.

Birdie pooped and threw up again. I woke to the abrupt feeling of her vomit being splattered right onto me. The hot smell and the feel made me hurl over off to the side as she cried.

Siddiq found me something for the two of us to change into, since Hal hasn't come back yet. I know the clothes had to come from some woman and child, which makes me feel both grateful and bad at the same time. I can picture the clothes being given somewhat reluctantly, out of concerned that Birdie will end up soiling these, too.

"Mommy, I'm tired."

"Tired?" I peel back the blankets. "You can't be tired still after all this sleeping you've been doing."

"Yeah, I still sleepy."

"Yeah?" I lay her down in the bed. "Well, you can rest a little more, but I'd like for you try and stay awake, okay? I'll get you something to eat. That sound good?"

"Yeah," She croaks, "Where's Daddy?"

I sit on the bed. "Um, Daddy's at home."

"I want Daddy."

I smile, sorry. "I know you do, honey, but Daddy has to stay home."

Birdie starts to get tears in her eyes. "No, I want Daddy."

I smooth some hair out of her face. "We'll go home and see him as soon as you get better, okay?"

"When I get better?"

"Soon," I tell her, "Even sooner if you take the medicine Siddiq wants you to take."

Her lips form button-like pout on her flushed complexion. "I don't like it."

"Well, if you take it, you'll get better faster and the faster you get better, the faster we can go home."

"I want my Daddy!"

"Daddy has to stay home to take care of the chickens." I lie quickly.

"The chickens?" Her brows furrow a little.

"Yeah," I itch my nose, "Um, to make sure they're all fed and are being good."

"Oh…'kay."

I smile. "Why don't you get some rest and I'll wake you in a little while?"

"Lay here, Mommy," Birdie moves her arm to the empty spot, "Please?"

I hesitate, trying to think of what I can say that'll not upset her. I nod with a soft sigh. "Okay, just 'til you fall asleep."

"Yeah."

Birdie goes to sleep really fast. The last time it was that easy to get her to sleep was when she was an infant. Her small body is still so hot that mine must feel like a cool relief.

I gingerly climb out of her embrace and off the bed. I fix the blankets so she won't overheat. She looks so calm, even though her cheeks are bright and burning. I wring out the washcloth that's been sitting in the bowl of water by the bed, fold it, and place it on her forehead.

I go quietly back to the bathroom, where I throw up. I don't have anything in my stomach, except for some water I drank a little while ago, but my stomach keeps lunging inside me. When I'm finally done, I turn the sink on and rinse my mouth out. I want to drink, but I know I won't keep it down.

I stare at my reflection. My eyes are watery from heaving so intensely and while my skin has a sheen to it, from perpsitation, face has lost most of its color. I'd feel my foreheard, but I know its not that. I turn the water on again to wash my face.

As I exit the bathroom, Siddiq comes down the hall. He looks me over. "How is she doing?"

"Fine," I report, "She's asleep. If you show me where I can wash our clothes and the bedding, I'll do that now while she's down."

He nods, still observant. "How are you feeling? You seem a little pale."

"I'm fine, I'm just tired," I assure him, "Where can I do the laundry?"

He shows me to the laundry room that has double sinks but no washer and dryer. I open up the door and windows to keep the smells from both the dirty laundry and the cleaners from becoming too overpowering. I wash the bed linens and then letting them soak in a bleach-water-soap mixture he made for me just outside. I end up tossing the clothes Birdie and I were wearing. The cleaner smell, even with the door and windows open becomes too overwhelming. I'll see if I can trade for some replacements when I have the time.

I go back to the wing of the house where Birdie is. Somewhere, I hear a hushed conversation. As I approach the room, I spy Siddiq speaking to Michonne. I slip into the hospital unnoticed and have a seat by my daughter's bedside.

The door opens and closes and Siddiq comes into the room. I look over at him. "Are they mad about this morning?"

"No, of course not," The doctor replies, "She only came to see what the status was on Birdie."

I knit my brows. "To see if she was contagious?"

"No, to see how serious she is."

I nod my head, rolling my eyes slightly. "Oh, to see how long we'll be staying and using up resources."

"No, not at all," Siddiq lightly defends her, "She simply wanted to check on her is all. She's a young child."

I look at Birdie in the bed. "And Rick?"

"Rick is at the bridge, he'll be back either tonight or tomorrow morning," Siddiq says, "But if he were here, he wouldn't treat this as a burden."

I nod again, still sore and not wholly convinced. They've always been civil, but in a way that never lets me forget that it's just that and that everything time I come here it's an allowance. I never am unaware of the subtle, but not subtle enough looks they give me, or my daughter.

Birdie sighs and her brows gather. "Mommy?"

"I'm right here, baby." I touch her warm hand. "Are you hungry? You want me to make you some soup?"

The door to the house opens. Both Siddiq and I glance over. It's Hal. "Hey."

"Hey."

"How's she doing?"

"Hal?" Birdie's eyes open slightly as the recognition of his voice.

"Hey, Pidge," Hal comes over to the bed, "How ya feelin'?"

"I don't feel good, Hal."

"Oh, well, I brought you some things that might help change that." He crouches down by the bed. "You like candy?"

"Yeah."

"Good thing, because I managed to find you some," Hal reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out four or five honey lollipops wrapped in clear cellophane, "Would you like one?"

"Yeah." Birdie nods against her pillow.

"Okay, but first you've got to tell me when your birthday is."

"Um…" Birdie looks over at me for help.

"November first." I remind her.

"November first." Birdie repeats to Hal.

"Good job," He smiles, handing her a sucker, "And when is that?"

She looks back at me.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

Her echo of the date makes my smile fade. "Oh, my god," I look at Hal, "It's tomorrow."

"Yeah," Hal nods, "Had you forgotten?"

"No, I…" I breath out, running a hand down my face, "Yes. I mean, no, but yes."

"Don't sweat it, Nan," Hal tells me, "With the fright you've had today over Pidge, it's no wonder it slipped your mind for a second."

"Here." Birdie hands me the sucker, too sick to have the patience to untie the string at the end of the wrap.

"It's time for another dose of her medicine." Siddiq tells me as he checks his watch.

I nod my head, looking at Birdie. "How about we save this for after your medicine? It'll make the icky taste go away."

"No, I don't like it." She starts to cry.

"It's gonna make you better."

"If you be a good girl and take your medicine, I'll let you have all these lollies," Hal holds up the rest of the candy, tantalizingly shaking them like a collective rattle, "What do you say, Pidge?"

Birdie looks at the candy in his hand.

I study her face. "You want the candy Uncle Hal's brought you?"

She turns to look at me. "Yeah." She says with a whine in her voice.

"Then you've gotta take your medicine."

Birdie exhales, dropping her shoulders. Her eyes are still watery. "Okay."

"Okay?"

Her face scrunches a little. "Yeah."

"Good girl." I pat her hand.

She almost breaks her end of the deal when she actually has to drink down the syrup, wincing and turning her head away at just the mere sight of Siddiq approaching with the plastic syringe of medicine. Again, I gag to myself at the smell. Hal looks at me strange, as if to ask me what my deal is.

But we finally get Birdie to get it down and reward her with the honey sucker. Hal leaves momentarily and brings back her pad of paper from home and tin bucket of crayons. This occupies her while her bland, clear broth lunch is heating up.

"Dwight was gonna send her lamb doll, but it was still drying from being washed." Hal informs me.

I smile, watching Birdie color, which is the most normal thing I've seen her do since before she woke up the day before claiming that she didn't feel well.

"He also gave me a poetry book to give to you," Hal adds, "I left it in the car, but he said it's your favorite, so he sent to keep you occupied when the Pigeon's down."

"He's sweet." I murmur, smiling more.

"Yeah, he's a keeper." Hal agrees.

"How was he?" I blink over to him, "When you got there?"

"He was in the garage," Hal tells me, "By the radio, waiting for you to get back to him."

"I don't know if the radio will reach that far," I reply, "Has he tried?"

"He said so," Hal shrugs, "He's worried."

"You told him what the doctor said?"

"Yeah, he wanted to come down with me, but I said you didn't want that, 'cause of Daryl."

I wince. "Is he mad?"

"I mean, a little bit, but I think he's more concerned for Birdie."

I nod. "He gave you everything we had set aside?"

"Yeah, I'll work it out for you, so you can stay here."

"Thank you."

"Sure thing," He plants a kiss on the top of Birdie's head, "Alright, I've got to go for now, Pidge. I'll see ya later."

Birdie pulls the sucker out of her mouth. "No, Hal, stay!"

"I'll be back," Hal gives her a tender knuckle to the cheek, "I've just to go run some errands."

"'Kay." She slumps, disappointed.

He chuckles, turning to leave. "See ya."

"See ya."

"Oh, before I forget," Hal looks over, "Laura said she might come a little later. Some of your friends, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, most of 'em are at the bridge, but they heard Bird's sick and want to come see her when they can."

"Oh, okay," I smile blandly, "Thanks for telling me."

"Alright." Hal leaves.

"I miss him."

I look back at Birdie. "He just left, silly, how can you miss him so soon?"

Birdie shrugs. "Just do."

…

After lunch, Birdie goes to sleep again. I eat the sandwich and soup brought to me along with her broth and juice. I also take this time to go through the things Hal brought in.

The clothes that Dwight threw into a small duffle bag for Birdie and I and the little satchel I usually bring with me when I come to town. I fold the clothes and put them back in the duffle bag. I find the poetry book tucked away in the satchel, just barely fitting snugly inside.

I dig out the two other items I stuck in the side pocket. I might have forgotten about them if I hadn't been going through the satchel. I don't unfold the one, but I do admire the second. I wonder if he saw either when he was putting my book away.

I wish he was here. I know I made the right choice in telling him he couldn't, but I still want him here. I could use his support; it's only been half a day and I'm already so fatigued from all the emotional drainage, among other things.

It stings that I had to make that call and that he might be mad me for it, but what was I supposed to do? There's no telling where Daryl is at, or where her might show up at. I can't risk Dwight being killed for coing back. That stings more; Dwight's exile based on one man's call when everyone else has forgiven or gotten over his transgressions. It more than stings, it burns.

…

Birdie wakes up in the middle of the night, crying as distraughtly as she had this morning. Siddiq and I struggle to get her to calm down. Her fever is still pretty strong and she sobs her head hurts. She throws up down my back, which worsens the crying.

I can't help it; I hand her to the doctor and run to the bathroom, where I get sick. I pull my shirt off, or rather the shirt that was lent to me and rinse it in the sink after I'm done. I have no choice but to go back without a shirt on to get to my duffle bag.

Siddiq pats Birdie's back as he tries to comfort her. She reaches for me when she sees me. "Mommy!"

I throw on a shirt and walk over to take her from him. "It's okay, don't cry."

"Are you ill?" Siddiq asks me.

"No." I shake my head, swaying Birdie very mildly.

"Are you sure?" He presses. "You been throwing up just as much as she has."

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Nan, you've had Birdie in your arms all day, you could be getting sick."

"I'm not sick," I claim again, shushing Birdie, "I'm pregnant."

…

The door creaks open. A smile spreads across my face. I've been waiting all fucking day.

The Widow shuts the door to the terrace, eyes locked on me.

I chuckle to myself. "About damn time."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **I know the ending is only three lines but know what to expect next chapter.**

 **ZA101: Oh, thank you! I always appreciate hearing such positive feedback on my writing. Writing is always something I've been interested in but have always had anxiety about it, so I started writing fanfic to sharpen my teeth so to speak, so I'm glad to know my writing is appealing :)**

 **CLTex: Nan's key desire towards a new chapter in hers and Dwight's relationship won't be revealed until the chapter after the next one, I'm afraid, but hey, the pregnancy news is somewhat exciting. And there may be some Negan and Nan interactions as well.**

 **Kara315: I am also excited to see what happens when Negan does escape. Lol, I know where I'm going with it in terms of him seeking Birdie out, but I'm still working on all the ins and outs.**


	11. Chapter 11

She shuts the door. The light from the lanterns outside glows on her fierce face. The crowbar in her hand looks black like a silhouette.

"About fucking time," I grin at my bed, covered in the dark, "I was wondering when you'd come around."

"You remember me?" The Widow inquires, staring at me with such intensity.

"Hell, yeah, I remember you," I chuckle a little, "How could I forget your face when I bashed in your old man's head? You were a goddamn mess."

Her face scowls. "You know why I came here?"

"Yeah, to kill me for killing….shit, what was his name?"

"His name was Glenn Rhee," She sneers, "He was a good man. He was going to be a father and because of you our son has to grow up without him."

My half-cocked smile fades a little. But I force myself to grin again. "Shit, that's an awful shame."

"Get on your knees," She orders, gripping the crowbar, "Now."

I scoff, standing up and moving away from my hard cot. "You know, I have always said I didn't enjoy killing people. But your husband?"

"His name was Glenn Rhee."

"Right," I smirk, "When I look back at when I did him in; I did enjoy that one. Man, when his eye popped out of his goddamn skull?" I continue to entice her. "That was some fucked up shit, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a little tickled inside by it. Especially when you started screaming over it."

"Get on your knees."

"I knew I broke you then," I taunt, "Just like I broke open Ben's head."

"His name was Glenn!" She shouts, "Get on your knees!"

I smile, getting down on the floor. "So, you finally mustered up the courage to come here. Took you long enough."

"It was always going to happen," She says, "We were always going to settle this."

"Well, I figured. You didn't seem like the kind of woman not to take revenge."

"Justice," She corrects me, "That's what this is."

"Funny how those things get mixed up."

"Come into the light." She sticks the key in the door of the cell.

This is it. I look at the crowbar. "An eye for an eye, huh? I guess that's fair."

"I want to see you face. Come into the light."

I feel my throat tighten. "What you stalling for?"

"I said come into the light."

"Don't pussy out now," I say, frustrated, "Unlock the door and do what you came here to do."

She puts her face close to the bars. "Step into the light."

I feel the tears start to well up. My head hurts. "Unlock the door and you'll see my face."

"I want to see you in the light, so come into the light, Negan."

"Stop dragging this out," I tell her, "You're here for justice for your dead husband, right?"

That callous tone pisses her off.

"So, you come in here and you get what you came here for. You take that crowbar and you kill me!"

Maggie turns the key, out of patience, and flings it open. She grabs me by the arm and drives me out of the cell, throwing me to wall across.

I can't help but burst into pathetic tears as I hit the wall. I don't try to get up, I just lie like a dog on the ground, crying.

"Please," I sob, "Please kill me."

"Why?" She yells at me in all her fury. "Why should I?"

"Please," I beg her, "Just do it, just kill me, please!"

"Why?" She screams over me with the crowbar half-raised. "You tell me why? Why?"

"You just have to. Please."

"Why should I?" She steps closer, demanding to know. "You tell me why should I?"

"So I can be with my wife!" I yell back, beside myself. "So I can be with Lucille!"

She stares down at my sorry ass state as I cry.

"I have to be dead," I look up to her, pleading, "I deserve to be dead."

The Widow's eyes run along me as if trying to understand.

"It has to be you," I continue on, "You have to do it, you have to kill me."

"Why?"

"Because I can't do it," I answer her, "I can't do it, I've tried. I can't do it." I shut my eyes, despairing everything I've lost. "Please...Just kill me. I want you to kill me."

The Widow gazes at me for a moment. What is she waiting for?

"Please," I plead with her, desperate, "Please. I can't live like this anymore. It's better for me to be dead; that's what everyone wants and I deserve it after all the things I've done."

It all breaks in me and I feel myself cave.

"My daughter will never know me and it's better that she doesn't. It's better if you kill me and she never knows what I've done."

The Widow stares, bewildered. "What did you say?"

"Please, just settle me," I look up with watery eyes, "Settle this."

She looks at me. "You said 'daughter'. What daughter?"

My eyes close as fresh tears brew. "My daughter; she was born during the war. She's gone now, her mother left with her years ago."

"One of your wives?"

I nod my head. "Please, just end it. Don't make me live like this."

"You want me to kill you, despite having a daughter?"

"She doesn't know me," I reply, "She's got her mom and dad someplace where she's happy not knowing I exist."

The Widow continues to peer down at me, her face has changed.

"Please, I can't take it anymore," I weep, "Kill me."

Her eyes search mine. "Get back in your cell."

"What?" I furrow my brows, devastated. "No, no! No, please!"

"Get back in your cell, Negan." She orders quietly, but curtly.

My face scrunches. "Why?"

"I came here to kill, Negan," She explains, "But you're already dead. I see that now."

I sob, knowing that she's right, but still wanting her to kill me.

"My son has to grow without his father, because you took him away from him," She goes on, "Keeping you here like this makes us even. So, get in your cell, Negan."

I cry as I start to stand up. "It's not supposed to be like this." I wallow past her. "It was never supposed to be like this."

The cell shuts behind me and locks. I go to my bed, unable to get a hold of myself.

The terrace door opens and closes and I'm alone again. I sit back down and hold my head in my hands.

I was ready. I'm tired, my head's not right, and I can't handle being stuck inside it and this cell anymore. I've been thinking about it for a while; if I can't be with one love, then I want to be with another. I was ready to die.

But I can't bring myself to do it. This was supposed be it; this was supposed to make it all better.

...

Birdie sighs in her sleep. Her cheeks are still flushed and I can still feel the warmth radiating off her as I go to sweep her copper brown hair from her face. It looks a little darker, but that could just be the lighting or season.

We finally got her to calm down with another bath. Although she still feels warm, I think the baths might be helping with the fever, if not only Birdie's temperament. Siddiq gave her another dose of medicine after the bath and then it only took me a few minutes to get her comfortable enough to sleep after that.

My eyes are heavy as I smile placidly down at her, despite the worry holding firm inside me. Poor thing doesn't deserve this. I know all kids get sick, but I hate to see her suffer without being able to remedy it right away. I'd rather her scrape her knee outside than throwing up and sobbing that her head is in pain. At least with the scraped knee, I could patch it up with bandaid and kiss it better.

"She asleep?"

"Mm-hm." I nod gently.

"Good."

"Yeah."

"Would you like any extra blankets or anything?"

"No, I think I'll be alright sharing with Birdie."

"Okay," Siddiq clears his throat behind me, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, thank you."

"You sure you don't want me to take your temperature, or give you an aspirin to stop a fever in its tracks?"

My smiles settles. I turn my head to look at him. "I told you, I'm not sick."

He nods. "How far along are you?"

"I'm two weeks late."

Siddiq nods again. "I have tests here, if you'd like to double check."

I look back at Birdie. She's sound asleep. "Okay."

Siddiq goes into his cabinet and rifles through it for a minute, before closing it. "I trust you know how to use one."

"Yeah," I exhale, taking the box from him. I glance over at Birdie anxiously before I go to the bathroom.

I take the test out of the box, out of the protective wrapper, which I toss in the garbage, and then go over to the toilet. I pull my pants down and sit, sticking the side with the strip under me as I start to pee. Once that's done, I take some toilet paper on the counter and set the test down and wait.

As I sit there, I get a little deja vu feeling from back when I found out I was pregnant with Birdie. Except then, I was terrified out of my wits. Terrified of it being positive. Terrified of being someone's mother and terrified of failing to be a good mother. Terrified of someone looking at me as the mother of their child and terrified of not knowing who that person was.

But now, I'm just nervous and mildly at that. I know I can be a mother, because I am one and a fairly good one, I think. And I'm no longer concerned about being thought of as "the mother of my child" to anyone, which I know for a fact this time that that person is Dwight.

I am still anxious about the test being positive, which I'm almost certain it will be in about one more minute. I noticed I was late two weeks ago, but I didn't say anything to Dwight. I've been late a few times before and it never meant anything. I decided to bide my time, before bringing it up. Only thing is, I didn't expect to be waiting this long.

Dwight and I haven't really talked about having more kids. In the three and a half years that we've been together, I told him I thought I might be pregnant once, but I waited until a day I was coming into town to say something. When Harlan gave me a test and it turned up negative, I told Dwight I wasn't when I got back and then neither of us expressed if that was a relief or a disappointment. I said "Okay" when the test was a minus and Dwight said "Okay" when I told him about it later.

I look at the clock on the wall. I turn towards the test and pick it up. I take a breath, before I shift the results my way.

When I go back to the hospital part of Siddiq's house, I find him by Birdie's bed, plugging in a little fan. It's chilly in here, but with the blankets on her, she'll stay warm, so we need something to keep her from overheating.

He looks over his shoulder when I clear my throat. He stands up, brushing his hands down the front of his pajama pants. "Well?"

I nod my head. "It's positive."

He nods back. "Congratulations."

I smile meekly. "Thanks."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," I assure him, setting the test with two blue lines for pregnant down on the table by the bed, "Yeah, I'm just tired."

"Oh, well, I'll leave you two to get some rest."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

I crawl back into bed, careful not to wake Birdie. I'm instantly warmed by her fever as I lay beside her.

I lay awake for a few minutes, thinking. I smile after a while.

But my smile goes with the sound of the front door opening. I knit my brows, curious. Who could be walking in at this hour? And without urgency?

The quiet, precise footsteps draw nearer to the hospital wing. I watch the Widow, Maggie, come into sight.

I stare at her and she back at me. I sit up a little in the bed, as if to inquire what she wants. Birdie exhales through her nose and it alerts my heart in my chest.

She stares. Her face seems inquiring but almost abashed in the sense of her recognition of the intrusion.

I wait for her to speak, wondering what it is she wants at this hour, or at all.

Maggie looks at my daughter in the bed next to me. "Is she sick?"

"Yes," I nod carefully, "She has a fever."

Maggie continues to gaze over at her. I don't know why, but it bothers me. Alarms me.

"Are you looking for the doctor?"

She finally looks at me. She doesn't answer right away.

"Yes," She says decidedly, "My son has an earache and I came to get some antibiotics."

"Are you out at Hilltop?"

"Maggie." Siddiq comes in rather abruptly. He looks over at me and then back at her.

"I came for antibiotics," She tells him, "For Herschel's earache."

He reads her face and nods. "I'll get the keys to the cabinet," He looks back in the room, "I'll be sure to be quiet, so I won't wake Birdie."

I watch him go from sight, uneasy, before I look back to Maggie. Even in the dark I can see her face, her look.

"Mommy."

I look down at Birdie. She's asleep, maybe just spoke in a dream. I shush her with a light stokes of my hand on her hair.

"Where's Daddy?" She says in almost a murmur.

I make sure she's asleep, before putting my eye back on Maggie.

She meets my gaze. She presses her lips together with awkward sympathy.

Birdie whines and rolls my way. I gingerly bring her close, holding her to me without smothering her with my body heat.

Siddiq returns and goes to the cabinet. Maggie follows and as she does I can't help but put my other hand protectively over Birdie and I. I can't tell it isn't as subtle as I thought when she looks down and away from the bed.

"Here." Siddiq hands her some pills.

She takes them and thanks him, before glancing back my way. "I hope she get better soon."

"Thank you." I say with a civil tone.

She turns to walk out of the room with Siddiq. As the two reach the hallway, she pauses.

"Why did you marry Negan?"

Siddiq turns his head to look at her.

I look that way. "What?"

Maggie shifts her body to face me. She looks at me candidly. "I heard you were one of his wives before you got together with Dwight."

I feel the breath in my chest tighten.

"You left him...for Dwight?"

"Yes. " I confirm, although it wasn't really as clean cut and dry as that. But those who don't know understand it that way.

She nods. "Why did you marry him? Knowing who he was and what he did to people?"

I stare, offended. "Why do you think you can ask me that?"

Maggie looks me over, not expecting such a rebuff. "I-"

"You don't know me," I interrupt, "You and I are nothing to one another, we've never even spoken before now. So, why do you think you can come here at two o'clock in the morning, asking questions of me?"

The way she looks at me unsettles me. The abashedness in her eyes tells me what I feared. She opens her mouth to speak.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," I scold her with a quiet sharpness, "Coming here; my daughter is sick."

Maggie closes her lips. "You're right; I'm sorry."

With that said, she turns back around and leaves the house. Siddiq follows her out and I hear faint, terse words exchanged between them.

Siddiq comes back inside. He runs his hand down his mouth, before peering into the room.

"Have everything you need?"

"Yes, thank you." I breathe.

He nods and then goes to head upstairs.

"She doesn't come here, does she?"

Siddiq stops. "No, she doesn't."

I sigh through my nose, worried. Birdie moves in my arms, so I soothe her back. My eyes looks her over, before I set my chin on top of her head. Maggie doesn't come to Alexandria…

…

"Mommy?"

I can hear Birdie's meek calling for me over my vomiting in the bathroom. I want to go to her immediately, but I've been throwing up non-stop since I woke up.

"Mommy?"

I get a hold of my stomach and flush the toilet. I then take a minute to wash my hands and face, as well as rinse out my mouth. I leave the bathroom and go to meet her. As I walk, I notice she's stopped calling me, but I still hear her voice.

"Birdie?" I go into the room and find who she's talking to. "Oh...hey."

"Hey," Laura says back, shy, "I, uh, came by to see how the kid's doing."

"Oh." I nod my head, sniffing up my nose that's runny from throwing up. My eyes catch sight of my pregnancy test on the side table by the bed and when my eyes flick back up to Laura's, I see she's seen it.

"Mommy." Birdie rasps on her knees in bed with a cup between both hands.

I redirect my eyes towards her. "Hey, what you got there?"

"Water."

"She said she said she was thirsty." Laura tells me.

"Oh, she has to have it diluted with juice," I go to the bed and have Birdie give me the cup, "Otherwise she'll throw it up."

"Oh, shit, I didn't know."

"It's fine," I pour some of the juice in the cup and give it back to Birdie, "Hal said you might be by."

"Yeah, I radioed him yesterday and he said he was helping you out because Birdie was sick."

I nod. "Is Daryl mad about that? I know he put Hal in charge when he's not at the bridge."

"No, he's cool with it."

I look at her. "He's not mad that you left the bridge?"

She shakes her head. "No."

I nod again, glancing back at Birdie. "How you feeling, baby?"

Birdie takes a break from drinking and puts a hand on her forehead. "My head still hurts."

"Well, you probably need some more medicine."

She whines. "I don't like medicine."

"I know, but it'll make you feel better," I smile, "Do you know what today is?"

"Um, no."

I chuckle. "It's your birthday."

"My birthday?"

"Yeah, it's your birthday," I feel her forehead, "You're three years old now."

"Thwee?"

"Yeah, three." I show her the number on my fingers.

She mimics the number. "I'm thwee, Lara."

"Hey, you are," Laura smiles, "Happy Birthday, B."

"Mommy, we going to have pancakes?" Birdie asks me.

"Um, I don't know if we can right now, baby," I answer her, "The doctor said you should stick to foods that won't upset your tummy and make you sick."

"Pancakes don't make me sick," Birdie says, "I like 'em."

Laura and I both chuckle. "I know you like them, but I think we better wait until you feel a little better...maybe when we get home, so Daddy can eat with us."

"I want Daddy," Birdie hangs her shoulders, "Tell him to come here."

My smiles lowers. I briefly look at Laura. "Um, remember why Daddy has to stay home?"

"To feed the chickens?"

I smile at her. "Yeah, to feed the chickens."

"I wanna go home."

"We will as soon as you get better."

"No, I wanna go home now," Birdie cries, "I want Daddy."

"Hey, B, I almost forgot; I came by to see what you wanted for your birthday."

Birdie looks at Laura with tears just starting to surface, coming to a halt. "My birthday?"

"Yeah, you know, like a birthday present," Laura smiles at her, "What do you want?"

Birdie knits her brows and looks at me.

"Do you know what you might want?" I ask her.

"No."

"Well, then, I guess I'll just have to surprise you." Laura chimes in.

"'Kay."

Siddiq enters the room. "Oh, hello."

"Hello." Laura greets back.

Siddiq turns to me. "I heard talking and figured it was a good time to come check on Birdie."

"Okay." I nod my head.

"How are you feeling, Birdie?"

"My head hurts." Birdie answers him.

"Okay, I'll give you something to help that," He softly tells her, "Can I take your temperature?"

"Um, yeah."

"Thank you." He smiles, going to get into a drawer.

"I should go," Laura clears her throat, "I just came by to see how she was. I gotta get back to the bridge."

"Oh, okay." I glance at Birdie, "I'm gonna walk Laura to the door, okay?"

"Okay." Birdie says.

"I'll be back." I walk with her to the front door, opening it for her. "Thanks for stopping by."

"Of course." She turns to look at me. She bites her lip. "Uh, hey, listen, I was-"

"Don't tell Hal."

Laura meets my eyes, knitting her brows. "Sorry, what?"

I put my hand on the door. "I know you saw the test on the table."

Her eyes search mine. "Oh...yeah." She looks back towards the wing and then me. "So, you're...pregnant?"

I nod my head. "Yeah. Don't tell Hal...or anyone else."

"Okay."

"I want to wait."

She nods. "Yeah, sure."

"Thanks."

"Yeah," Laura looks out towards the paved road, "How's D?"

"Probably a nervous wreck at the moment, but he's fine."

"Good," She says, still gazing out, "I haven't seen him in years, have you?"

"Dwight?" I furrow my brows. "Yeah, I live with him."

Laura looks back and chuckles. "Oh, right, sorry that was a stupid thing to say."

Now I look out towards the road, towards the houses. "Were you talking-"

"I'll see ya later, Nan," Laura heads down off the porch, "I'll try to bring something for Birdie, since I said I would."

I blink back to her. "Okay."

Laura heads off and as I watch her walk away, I find Michonne some distance away by a row of tomatoes, staring curiously toward me.

I look back and I instantly feel unnerved. My stomach seems like it's slowly dropping and it's not in morning sickness.

"Mommy!"

I break the gaze and go back inside to tend to my daughter.

…

Later in the day, Birdie's back to throwing up. Siddiq took her temperature and it's back at 102. I bathe her in a lukewarm bath to bring it down and Siddiq brings me a night gown for her that will be cooler to wear than the pajamas that she was wearing.

Getting her to take medicine is harder when she's upset. She turns her head away from the syringe and refuses to take it because of the taste. I keep telling her that the sooner she takes it, the sooner she'll get better and we can go home to Daddy and have birthday cake. She cries and says she wants to go home, that she wants Dwight, but she calms herself enough to force down the medicine, which is immediately chased with the juice water concoction to keep her hydrated.

I feel so bad for her. She does good for a few hours and then she's back to feeling so horrible she cries. I'm also frustrated that the fever keeps yo-yoing like this. It's scary.

She goes back to sleep around one, after I convince her to eat some vegetable broth and crackers.

I can't keep sleeping when she does, because it's exhausting me to sleep so much. I try to read some of the poetry from the book Dwight sent me, but I can't concentrate, especially without my glasses. I want to be up doing something to distract myself from both my concern for Birdie's health and my pregnancy. From the strange thing that happened last night.

"You should take a walk."

I look up from the book. "What?"

He stands in the doorway. "I said you should take a walk. Get some fresh air."

"Oh," I turn back to the bed, "No, I can't leave Birdie."

"She'll be okay," He assures me, "She's resting."

"What if her fever spikes, or she wakes up and sees that I'm not here?"

"I'll be right here," Siddiq says, walking into the room, "I'll make sure all her vitals are normal and when she wakes up, I'll let you know."

I look at her. "I don't know…"

"Well, think-"

The front door birds open. "Nan!"

We both look over at Hal, astonished. "What?"

He holds up a radio in his hand, trying to catch his breath. "I got a hold of Dwight."

"You did?" I stand up.

"He's hard to hear, but he's there." He hands me the radio.

I take and press the button on the side. "Dwight?"

There's no response.

I press the button again. "D, can you hear me?"

The room is quiet, all staring at the radio. It statics. "Nan?"

I break into a smile at hearing my name in his voice under all the static. "Yeah, it's me."

"...How's…"

"Say again, I didn't hear you."

"...Birdie."

"She's good, she's still sick, but-"

"What?"

"Can you hear me?"

"...Nan? Is she-" Interference keeps cutting in.

"D, I can't hear you," I tell him with an exhale, "You're too far away."

I don't know if he heard me. "Tell her….did you get that?...Nan?"

I nod my head. "Yes, I'll tell her."

"...I…"

I keep back tears. "I love you. I have to go. We'll be home as soon as she gets better."

"...I didn't…"

I sigh through my nose. "I'm gonna go now."

"...I.. you, Nan."

"I love you, too." I say under my breath, handing Hal the radio. "Thanks."

"Sure," He looks over me, "How's she doing?"

"A little bit better, a little bit same as yesterday."

He nods, hiking his thumb back. "I bought her something for her birthday, but I'll give it to her later."

I smile. "You're the best. I haven't done anything, I-"

"Stop worrying about it, Nan," Hal tells me, "You're doing fine."

I nod, touching my arm.

"I was just suggesting she get some fresh air."

I look at Siddiq and back at Hal. "But I can't leave her here."

"I'll stay with her, if you want," Hal sits down in the chair I was sitting in, "You can take a walk, if you need to. You do look a little pale."

I smile. "It's just because I've been up and down with her."

"Well, go for a walk. Get some proper food in you, it'll do you some good."

"Hal, I-"

"I'll be here, Nan."

I glance between them, before I close my lips in a defeated exhale. "Fine, I'll...walk, but just for a few minutes and you call me when she wakes up."

"I've got some food in the truck people at Sanctuary made for you."

"Oh...really?"

"Yeah, word got around and your friends wanted to do something."

"Friends?"

"Yeah, you know, Marisol, Frankie, Tonya, some of the former workers, etc."

"Oh, well, tell them thank you."

He nods. "Laura said she'll be back later and she'll bring Lizzie if she can."

"Is Lizzie at the bridge?"

"Yeah, all but Isobel and the kid aren't."

"Why?"

"They have to earn their keep. Daryl said this was how they got stay on permanent."

I scoff, looking down.

"Put a coat on before you go, it's cold out."

I put on my blue corduroy jacket by the door. Like my old jacket that got too torn up to wear, it's lined with wool on the inside and the on the collar. It's warm but I'd rather not put it on. I'd rather not leave at all, but I'm too tired to argue and wake my daughter up.

I step out of the house and down the steps. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, except walk around aimlessly. I don't know what Hal did with the things I meant to trade, so I can't even gather things we need, as well as stuff for Birdie and Dwight's birthdays.

As I tread down the road, I'm stopped suddenly by Grace, a little girl Birdie sometimes plays with.

"Hi, Nan!"

I smile softly at her. "Hi, Grace."

"Where's Birdie?" She looks up at me. "Can she play?"

"Um," I note her dad coming up the road, "Not right now, honey, she's not feeling well."

"Aw!" Grace complains, disappointed. "When will she be better?"

"Soon."

"Grace."

Grace looks back to Aaron, her father. "Daddy, Birdie can't play, because she's sick."

"Oh, that's a shame," He says genuinely, before looking up at me, "How is she? I heard from Michonne yesterday."

"She's still fighting the fever, but Siddiq isn't too concerned, if it doesn't get any higher and her symptoms don't get worse."

He nods. "I'm sorry she's ill."

"Thanks."

Aaron offers a sympathetic smile. "Come on, Grace, we should get home for lunch."

"Okay, Daddy," Grace follows him, waving, "Bye, Nan!"

"Bye."

I breathe, looking further down the path. My brows furrow when I see a woman walk down steps to a terrace. I walk towards the houses. As I make it to the stairs, the woman is coming out, closing the door behind her.

"Hi."

She looks up, a little startled. "Hello."

"It's Norah, right?"

"Yes," She nods, "Nan?"

"Yeah." I glance to the side. "Um, is he…" I look at her inquiring face. "Is he in there?"

Norah's brows begin to gather, perplexed. "Yes, he's there. Where else would he be?"

I shake my head. "I just- I thought because she…" I can't tell she doesn't know what I'm talking about. "Never mind."

She looks me over. "Okay." She comes up the stairs. "Hope your girl feels better."

"Thank you."

I make like I'm going about my way, looking over my shoulder. I then turn around and go down the steps. I stare at the door, contemplating opening, as well as whether or not it will open. I almost reconsider, but as I put my hands on the doorknob and turn it, discovering that it's unlocked, I open it.

The room is dark and cold, like it usually is. I step in and turn my head to the right towards the cell. I see a shadowed mass crumpled on the cot. He doesn't lift his head to look. He's motionless.

I shut the door calmly behind me. "Negan?"

He doesn't reply.

I cautiously step forward. "Negan?"

Negan looks up, brows puzzled. "Nan? That you?"

"Yes," I nod my head, "It's me."

He stares at me, as if trying to decide that for himself. He looks older than the last time I saw him, drained. Maybe it's the beard...or the peculiar, sad look in his eyes.

"I…" His words seem to stick in his raspy throat, "I haven't see you in…it's been a long time."

"I know," I say, in agreement, "We haven't been down for awhile."

Negan peers at me, silent. I look down at the tray on the ground by the cell. It's got a sandwich and a cup of water.

I clear my throat. "How have you been?"

"I'm…" He begins to say what he always has said whenever I ask, but he pauses. "I'm fine."

I get a good look at him through the bars. He looks a little thinner and there's something about his face, his expression, that denies what he says.

My eyes look toward the wall. There should be more tally marks than what there are.

"I saw the Widow," I tell him, "Maggie. She was here last night."

"So were you?" He asks, confused.

I blink back to him. "Yes, I was."

He furrows his brows. "Why?"

"Did she come here?" I ask him. "Did you see her?"

I need to know. Part of me woke up this morning thinking it was just a dream, because Siddiq didn't mention it and it felt so surreal in my head.

Negan look away. "Yeah, she came here last night."

My breath gathers. "What for?"

"To kill me."

I scratch my thumb. "But she didn't."

"No, she left me alive." He confirms. The light from the window gleams at the bottom of his eyes.

"Why?" I inquire, nervous. "Why did she come here to kill you and then not do it?"

"Disappointed?"

"Answer me," I demand more firmly than I would if I were talking to Birdie, "I want to know. I want to know why she came into Siddiq's house at two in the morning and asked me why I married you."

Negan hangs his head.

" _Negan_ ," I say his name, before I say it again like, "Negan?"

He holds his head in his hands. "I told her I had a daughter, so she decided to put me back in this cell, so I could live the rest of my life not getting to be part of her life."

I scoff. "You told her about Birdie?" I step closer to the bars. "How could you do that?"

"I didn't tell her, she must have figured it out, or asked Michonne or Rick."

I huff, dissatisfied. "I never wanted her to know."

"Nan, I'm-"

"If something happened to Birdie, it would've been your fault!" I shout unexpectedly. "You told her you had a daughter. You knew she came here for revenge and you told her about our daughter?"

He lifts his head up and all I see is despair. "I know, I'm sorry."

I look him over. The callousness pulled from under me.

"I asked her to," He tells me with his long face, "I begged her to kill me, Nan, but she wouldn't. Because of what I said."

"You…you begged her to kill you?"

"Yes," Negan says and his face winces as more tears come, "I should be dead. I have to be."

I open my mouth to speak.

"I lied, I'm not fine," Negan sobs into his hands, "I've lost track of time, I fucked my head up, my picture of Birdie was destroyed, I don't know where Lucille is."

He cries distraughtly.

"Negan-

"I tried, but I couldn't do it."

I knit my brows, alarmed. "You what?"

"That's why my head's not right," He says, "I hit it against the wall."

"Why?"

"Because I can't live like this anymore, Nan," Negan tells me, "I tried, but I can do it. I can't live with what I've done. I can't live with the consequences."

Tears start to form in my eyes as he cries. It's almost unnatural to see him like this. I don't like it.

"I can't remember what she looks like," He laments, "I know it's better that way, but it's driving me crazy."

"Birdie?"

He nods his sunken head. "Her picture got ruined in the wash. Now I can't remember anything about her."

I look at him on the cot. I don't know what to say. "...Today's her birthday."

Negan glances my way with sullen eyes. "It is?"

I nod my head. "Yes."

"It's the first of November?"

"Yeah," I offer a mild, somewhat awkward smile, "She's three years old."

I thought that would maybe make him buck up, but it doesn't. His face grows more anguished.

"She's talking more and more," I add, trying, "She's getting better at grammar, but she's three, so it comes and goes." I rub my arm. "I was coming down here to get what I need to make her birthday cake, but we had a change of plans."

"Why?" He sighs, seemingly uninterested in my attempts.

My nostrils flare a little. "Because she's sick, Negan."

Negan furrows his gaze. "What?"

"She woke up yesterday morning with a fever and so I had to rush her here to the doctor."

He stands up from the bed."Well, is she okay?" He approaches the bars. "It's not serious, right?"

"The doctor said it can be because she isn't vaccinated and she's young, but she's been doing good. She's been throwing up, but she's eating and taking her medicine."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it's been really rough," I sigh, "She's never been sick like this before."

"But she'll be okay?"

I nod. "She should be."

He looks me over. "Who's with her now? Dwight?"

"No, Hal's watching her while she's sleeping. Dwight couldn't come."

He nods. "How you holding up?"

"I'm fine."

He snickers faintly.

I look up at him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," He says, "It's just you always say you're 'fine' especially when you're not."

"So do you."

"Yeah'" He mouths with a low smile, "It might sound stupid, but it's good to hear it. I missed it."

I meet his eyes. "She has your eyes."

"I know," He nods, "That's about all I know."

"You should tell the doctor something's wrong with your head," I tell him, "I mean it, something could be seriously wrong."

"I did it months ago," Negan scratches his head "If it was gonna kill me, it would've by "now."

I nod. "I should get back."

He can't hide the disappointment. "Stay. Just a little longer."

"I don't want Birdie to wake up and be upset that I'm not there."

Nega goes to argue, but he knows it's futile, so he exhales with a nod of his head.

I bite my lip. "But I'll come back."

"When?"

I shrug. "Tonight, or maybe tomorrow."

"You'll keep me posted on Birdie?"

"Yeah, I will," I look down at the sandwich, "You should eat. Take care of yourself."

"Yeah."

"I mean it, Negan," I look him in my eye, "You might be in a cell, but you deserve to live."

He stares back at me, before he nods.

I reach out and touch one of the bars. "When she came last night...I was afraid that she had done it."

Negan's brow knit.

I smile mildly, before stepping back. "I'll come back when I can."

"Okay."

"Eat your sandwich." I turn and open the door, exiting. I feel tears try to form in my eyes, but I clear my throat and go up the stairs.

I walk back to the hospital. As I get to the front door, I hear voices, one of which is Birdie's. I open the door, worried she woke up and needs me.

But I walk into the room and a smile grows on my face.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I didn't get a chance to respond to you're wise but I have read them and I'll do my best to answer them next time!**


	12. Chapter 12

I look around the room at the people on either side of Birdie's hospital bed.

"Hey." Frankie smiles.

"Uh, hey," I reply, addressing not only her, but Hal, Laura, Tonya, Hazel, Danica, and Marisol, "What are you all doing here?"

"Hi, Mommy." Birdie greets me, sitting up in bed.

"Hey, did you just wake up?"

"Yeah," Birdie nods, pointing, "Look!"

"Hal told us that Birdie was sick," Tonya tells me, "And then I remembered that it was her birthday, too, so we made her a jello mold and some presents."

"Oh," I smile, looking down at the green jello on the wooden bed tray as well as the brown paper packages on the bed, "That's so nice. You didn't have to do that."

"We wanted to," Hazel says, "To make sure she's alright."

"Amber wanted to come, but her mom's been having a tough time lately, so she said she better stay."

"Of course." I smile.

"Nate and Isobel, too," Laura adds, "But their kid has a cold and neither of them wanted to bring what B's got back to him."

"I understand." I say, going over to the bed.

"Lizzie will be by sometime," Hal informs me, "There was a delay in the bridge, so she offered to work overtime."

I nod my head, smiling at Birdie. "Look at this!" I motion towards the jello.

"It's green!"

"I know, you love green. What do you say?"

"Tank you." She tells the crowd.

"Aw, you're welcome, sweetheart." Frankie touches her head, laying a light kiss on top.

"She'll be able to keep it down, right?" Marisol asks. "She can have clear foods?"

"Yeah, she should be fine."

"Okay," She nods, "They twins have been asking about her. I would've brought them, but-"

"Don't worry about it," I assure her with a wave of my hand, "This is beyond what I was expecting; I...wasn't expecting any visitors, so I appreciate all of this."

"Mommy, I wanna open my presents." Birdie touches her hand to one of the gifts closest to her, fiddling with the twine holding it together.

"Right now?" I ask her. "You don't wanna wait until after your jello?"

"Um, no, I wanna open them now."

I snicker lightly. "Okay, you can open them now."

"Open this one last," Hal puts a finger on one of the presents, "Because it's from me and you always save the best for last."

"Okay." Birdie says, picking up another one and tugging at the string.

…

Birdie fell asleep after her little birthday party ended an hour ago. I think she really needed that, so I'm grateful that our friends came to Alexandria to see her. She got some books, a new knit hat and pair of mittens from the girls, a fresh pad of paper and crayons from Marisol, and a pair of new to her tennis shoes from Laura, which she really liked.

As she was told, she opened Hal's gift last which turned out to be a compass and a small pocket knife, a typical uncle gift. I gave him a look and he smiled and said the pocket knife was for when she was older. She didn't mind me taking it to hold onto, because she got to keep the compass, which she thought was cool, despite not knowing what its for. Dwight will love teaching her how to use it.

I think her favorite gifts though were the hand-made get well/happy birthday cards that the twins and Kit made her at Sanctuary.

After presents, Siddiq stepped in to inform me that it was time to take her medicine again. Surprisingly, it was easier to get her to take it with the group of people surrounding her, especially with the promise of jello to follow. She did make sounds of distaste and it didn't go down easy, but she managed to put of a brave face.

The jello was sweet and lime-flavored and in the shape of the bundt cake. Hal scraped up some birthday candles and stabbed three orange ones into the top and lit them. We sang happy birthday to Birdie as she smiled as bright as the glow from the candles. She blew them out with a strong gust of breath, despite being sick, and grinned shyly as we clapped.

"Here."

I look and then reach over for the glass of water. "Thanks."

"She is wiped out." Laura snickers by the end of the bed.

"Yeah," I smile back at Birdie asleep on the bed, "This was the first birthday where it wasn't just her, Dwight, and I."

"I reckon she liked all the attention," Hal sits on the end, "Always been bit of a ham, this one."

I chuckle quietly. "Yeah, she…" I move her bangs off her warm forehead, "Yeah."

"She seems better than this morning." Laura says.

"Yeah, she's in better spirits," I agree, "Hopefully her fever breaks soon."

"You want us to stay with you for the night?" Hal asks, "Maybe take turns keeping an eye on her, so you can get some rest? You look a little fatigued."

I share a brief look with Laura. "Uh, no, that's okay. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I don't mind," I smile at him, "It's part of being a mom."

"You still trying to convince us you're a good mom, eh?" Hal gives me a light kiss on the temple.

"Are you convinced?"

"I'll have to keep my eye out, but yeah."

I snicker. "You gonna head out?"

"If you'll be alright," Hal tells me, "We better get going. It'll get dark soon."

Laura scoffs. "It's my night to cook and he doesn't want to do the dishes late."

"Oh," I glance between them, "Okay. You two can go."

"Give Pidge a kiss for me."

"Will do," I stand up and hug him, "Thank you for this."

"It was Laura who went around looking for gifts."

I pat his back. When we break from the hug, I look at Laura. "Thanks."

"Sure." She smiles mildly.

"Tell everyone thank you for being so nice to my daughter."

"It was nothing," She shrugs, "She's one of us. You all are."

I smile, grateful. I put my hand out and she shakes it. "Safe trip home."

"Yeah," Laura nods, before turning to Hal, "I'll go fire up the truck."

I wait for her to leave. "Are you and her…?" I look at him with raised brows.

"We've been talking and hanging out," Hal holds his elbows, "Just dipping our toes in the water."

I nod. "Well, you better get going then. Those dishes aren't gonna wash themselves."

He chuckles. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Okay," I smile, hugging him again, "Thanks again."

"You are very welcome."

Hal goes towards the front, nodding at Siddiq as he passes. Siddiq smiles by the doorway with his arms crossed. "You've got a good group of friends."

"Yeah," I nod my head, looking back to Birdie, "For being outcasts."

"Yeah," He huffs, humored, "How are you feeling?"

"The morning sickness has passed for the day, I think, so aside from being a little tired, I'm fine."

"Good," He smiles, "Let me know, if you or Birdie need anything."

"Thank you."

I sit there for awhile, watching her sleep, while I read from the poetry book Dwight sent me and listen to the crickets that start to chirp. As my eyes skim the lines, I wonder for a moment how he is. We've never stayed overnight in town, especially for more than one night. I'm sure that aspect wouldn't bother him if Birdie weren't sick. It must be somewhat nerve-racking to try and go about your day, which if I know him, I know he will, without knowing if your daughter is alright or not.

I fold the book to a close and mull it over. As I do, my recent discovery comes to mind, which makes me glance down and touch my tummy. How am I gonna tell him? Last time, I just told him straight up right outside the Sanctuary's doors by the yellow railing. The pain in my broken hand and humility in my heart sort of took the joy out of it.

I remember the look on his face. I can't be sure what was going on in his head.

I think about that for the rest of the evening, even after Birdie wakes around dinner time. Even when she talks to me about her surprise birthday party as she eats her broth and crackers and a little bit more jello. I listen to her the whole time I bathe her, smiling and talking back, but it's there looming in my mind. Even when I have to help Siddiq encourage her to take her medicine just before bed.

I close my eyes after she does, still thinking about it for some unknown reason. At some point, I fall asleep, but when I open my eyes again, it's only been about an hour of time. I look over at Birdie sleeping curled up and facing me. I pick at my thumb, before I move gently but with a little haste.

…

The crickets outside are louder than usual. It seems that way, anyway. Normally, it annoys the fuck out of me, since I don't sleep, but tonight it's not so bad. My head's somewhere else. Wherever my daughter's at.

I want her to be okay. She's all I have in this world, even if I never see her. Even if I don't remember shit about her, I still love her. At least I think I do. Can you love someone you don't know? I got locked up when she was just a baby. Aside from Nan bringing her by that time, I haven't seen her in three fucking years. She's a stranger to me and vice versa.

Do I actually love her, or am I just making shit up again? Painting a picture that's different from the reality, which is that I don't know her and she doesn't know me. I'm her father and she's my daughter, which is also reality, but at this point it seems untrue. Moot.

The door to the terrace opens and closes with a little haste. I stop staring at the ceiling and glance over from my cot. I sit up.

"Nan?"

"Yeah, it's me."

She says with a frazzled tone. She has this movement about her that looks like she could pace, but keeps herself from doing it, which then just looks like she's out of it. It's not erratic, but it freaks me out.

"Everything alright?" I move my legs to the floor. "Is it Birdie?"

She looks up at me and her eyes scan mine. She shakes her head, glancing back down as if she realizes something. "No. No, she's fine. She's been doing really well actually since we talked this afternoon."

"...Then why are you here?" I ask her.

She rolls something between her fingers. "I brought you an aspirin since you said your head hurt...but I forgot to bring you water."

"I've got some," I stand up and approach the bars, "Thanks."

She nods, dropping the pill in my hand when I reach for it. "It's for migraines so, it's extra strength."

I walk back to my cot where underneath, I saved the water Norah brought me with dinner. "I'm surprised you came," I tell her, "I know you said you'd try to make it back tonight, but I wasn't-"

"When you found out I was pregnant, what was your first thought?"

I furrow my brows a little. "What?"

She looks at me. "When I told you I was pregnant, what went through your head?" She asks me again. "What did you think, or...feel?"

I stare at her. "Why?"

She shakes her head. "I just want to know. It's been on my mind."

I keep my eyes on her, trying to make her out. But then I get to thinking about what she asked and start to recall that moment.

"I remember thinking it was a mistake when I saw your initials next to a pregnancy test on the logs."

Nan stares, listening.

I huff. "I also remember asking Reed if it was right...and that if the doctor forgot to report an inventory adjustment on the morning-after pill."

She holds her elbows, still listening intently.

I pick my eyes up and meet her gaze. "I figured that was the case, since the others took 'em all the time and were afraid I'd be pissed if I found out. Carson used to 'forget' all the time."

"You never punished him for that?"

I shift my jaw in thought. "No, it's not like it was the vital stuff, like antibiotics or insulin. I would just send Reed to go inquire about it and Carson would do a recount and always surprisingly find that he was short."

Nan picks at her thumb. "So, you-"

"If they ever were, I don't know," I tell her, "Like I said, they took 'em like M&M's and I never asked."

She bites her lip. "So, you found out that Harlan didn't forget?"

"No, Reed told me you told him that the logs were correct, so he took that as you were vouching for what you took."

Nan nods her head, turning as she walks to one end of the bars. "And then you came to Dwight's room to confront me about it."

I nod. "I had to know."

"Why?" She turns her head. "You didn't ask the others."

"The others signed for tests and pills and then never said a word about it, like I didn't look at the books every night," I explain, "You fucking packed up your shit and left me...for Dwight. I think it's fair to say that I had good reason to believe it was different this time."

Nan looks down, thinking, it looks like. "What did you think when I told you?" She blinks up. "Were you...happy? You said you wanted me to move back to the top floor with you and the wives, but that was only because you wanted to provide for me...to do what you thought was the right thing."

"Yeah." I agree, because that's how I remember it.

"Were you happy?" She repeats, shrugging. "Or...excited? What is just an obligation?"

I read her uneasiness. "I remember thinking about Lucille. And all the missed chances we had to be parents." I breathe in through my nose. "And how it never crossed my mind that I'd be a dad, if she couldn't be a mom, especially not after the change."

"You mean, you didn't want to have kids with anyone other than her?"

"I may not have been the best to her, but I loved her and I didn't love anyone else, so even though I cheated on her, she was the only one," I exhale, leaning my head back against the wall, "I know that sounds fucked up, but to answer your question; no, I didn't want to have kids with anyone other than her and when she went, all of that desire to be a father went with her."

Nan looks in on me, quiet. "...You really wanted to be a father. Before the change."

"Hell yeah, I did," I tell her, "We both wanted kids, but…" I stick my tongue in my cheek. "Well, you know."

She nods her head. "You liked kids?"

"You kind of have to in order to work with them, don't you?"

Nan furrows her brows, perplexed. "What do you mean?"

A smile tips on my face. "I was a teacher."

At that, her brows unknit in that mild way of hers, surprised. "You?" She says, staring at me. "You were a teacher?"

I chuckle quietly. "Don't sound so taken back, Nan."

"I just…" She looks about the place, "I would have never guessed that a teacher would-"

"Turn out like me?"

Her eyes focus back to mine. "Yeah."

"Yeah, well, that's the beauty of this world," I yawn, "Or maybe the ugliness of it. Anyone can be anyone."

Nan's eyes blink to the window on my side. "So, you weren't happy."

My smile fades and I look towards her. "I was wrong."

"How?"

"I thought all the desire to be a dad died with my wife, but it didn't."

"So then you were happy?"

"I…" I stare off in thought, "I laid awake that night, trying to convince myself to let shit be. To believe you when you so adamantly claimed that the baby was Dwight's."

I can see her head turn from the side view of my eye.

"But the more and more I thought about it, about you being pregnant and having a baby, I…" I breathe through my nose, shaking my head, "You were right, I didn't know if Birdie was mine anymore than you did at the time, but I couldn't block out how much I wanted her to be."

Nan meets my eyes.

I look back. "The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I still wanted to be a dad."

Her eyes look frozen on mine. They look arresting.

I have to take a breath and look away. "But I guess that wasn't in the cards me."

"It could have been," She says, "If you had just listened to me."

"Yeah, well...it's better this way, isn't it?" I rub my cold hands against each other. "Birdie's happy and better off not knowing who I am."

Nan holds her arms, quiet for a moment. "I should go."

"Yeah, I'm about ready to call it a night," I push back the blanket from under my ass, "It's been a long ass day."

She nods her head. "I'll...I'll keep you posted."

I look at her. "Thanks."

Nan goes for the door.

"Nan?"

She turns her head as she opens the door.

I move my jaw to the side. "I don't know if this'll be a better answer, but, uh...I was glad that it was you that was carrying my kid."

Nan's eyes look past the bars.

"I never intended to get any one of my wives pregnant, but for what it's' worth, I was glad it was you," I add, "Still kinda am."

Nan looks at me for a moment, before she turns her head forward and leaves.

…

Birdie reaches her hand out. "I wanna hold the spoon."

I smile, turning it over to her. "Think you can handle it?"

"Yeah," She sticks the end with the glob of oatmeal into her mouth, "I'm big now, I don't need your help."

"Oh, well, excuse me," I scoff, jokingly, "Here I thought I was being nice and nursing you back to health."

"I'm a big girl, Mom," Birdie spoons another heap of oatmeal, "I can do it."

"Okay, if you insist."

I pick up my own bowl and eat with her. She's been doing really well. She woke up yesterday morning warm, but her temperature was only at 99 on the dot. We asked her if her head hurt and she said it didn't and hasn't since. She hasn't gotten sick or cried one time either. It was still a pain to give her her medicine, but we could hardly expect that to change.

Siddiq was glad to see her fever drop, but advised we stay an extra day, just in case either fever or symptoms return. So, we stayed for another day, which gave her a little more time to rest. She slept here and there, but she's been pretty adamant about getting out of bed to play, even if it's just to color on the floor underneath the bed. She wanted to go out and find Grace or Judith, but I said it was maybe better if she waited a little.

Today, she clocked 98 on the thermometer. Siddiq gave me some of the medicine she's been taking and suggested I should give it to her for one to two more days to be on the safe side, but said that we could home if I wanted.

We spent the morning eating breakfast which was the first unbland oatmeal Birdie's had in a few days with toast with butter and jam. After that, we bathe, get dressed, and gather up everything we had while we stayed here and take it to the car that's nearly filled to the brim with far more than I initially came for. It's strange to think of the Saviors giving so generously rather than taking, but when word got around Birdie was sick and we were in Alexandria until further notice, they really came through. It sort of makes me feel like what Laura said was true.

I guess I shouldn't say _we_ got the truck ready to go home. Grace asked if Birdie could play and so I let her, since Siddiq said she wasn't contagious and they would be inside out of the cold.

"Hey."

I look over as I shut the hatch. "Hey!"

Lizzie smiles as she walks over. "You're leaving; that must be a good sign."

"Yeah, her fever broke," I inform her, giving her a light hug, "The doctor gave us leave to head home."

"I meant to come sooner, but there was an issue at the bridge and I said I'd stay."

"Hal told me," I say, "What sort of issue?"

"Um...a fight."

I raise my brows. "A fight?"

"Yeah, a bunch of people started walking off site and well, we're trying to prove ourselves still, so we stayed," She tells me, "I had to wait for Daryl to give me a ride."

I look out. "He's here?"

"Yeah, somewhere."

I nod my head. "Rick?"

"I think he may have stayed behind. Just to make sure tensions didn't get high again."

"Okay," I scratch my nose, "Well, sorry you came all the way here just to have to turn around."

"No, it's fine," Lizzie says, "I should have found some way to get here sooner."

"Don't worry about it."

"I brought something for her," She reaches into her bag, "Nate brought it back from the Sanctuary. He goes there on the weekends to be with Iz and Kit."

"Oh, thanks."

She hands me a brown paper bag. "It's not from us, exactly. Some guy gave it to Nate and said Birdie's dad would want her to have it."

"Oh, okay."

"Kit made this picture for her though."

I take the folded paper. "Thanks."

Lizzie glances around. "So, where is your little clone?"

I snicker. "She's playing with a friend." My smiles starts to fade as I remember something. "I have something for you, too."

She turns to look back at me. "Oh?"

"Yeah, hang on." I go around to the front seat.

I toss the card and bag on the seat and open the glove compartment. I fish out both things I stuck in there and go back around to her.

"Here."

She puts her hand out. She looks at what I've dropped in the palm of her hand. Her brows gather and then let up as she glances at me.

"This is-"

"The ring Charlie gave me," I confirm, "I want you to have it."

She looks back down at it. "I...can't believe you still have it after all this time."

"I thought I needed it," I put my eyes on it as well, "To get me through. But I didn't...or I don't anymore."

Lizzie picks up her gaze.

I smile. "I have my family."

"So, you're giving it to me?"

"Yeah, you were his sister."

"Yeah, but…" She peers down at it again with an exhale, "He gave this to you...I was with him when he bought it." She opens up the locket. "I said it looked like something you'd get out of a crackerjack box and he said you like it."

I smile fondly.

Lizzie's eye pool with tears. "Why are you giving this to me?" She meets my eyes. "Why don't you want it anymore?"

"It's not that I don't want it, Liz, it's that I don't need it," I explain to her, touching her arm, "Charlie always said I was gonna make it, that I didn't need him to always look after me. He was right; I didn't."

She nods sullenly.

"For the past few months, I've been thinking a lot about what I want and now that I know, I know that in order to move forward, I can't let things from the past go," I lick my lips, "I will never forget the life I had with Charlie, the good and the bad. He was one of a kind and I will always be thankful for how well he loved me. But I love Dwight and it wouldn't be right for me to ask him to marry me, when I'm still coveting this ring around our house."

Elizabeth looks at me. "You're gonna ask him to marry you?"

I can't help but smile as I nod my head. "Yeah."

She breaks out in a little chuckle, brushing a tear off her cheek.

I chuckle as well. "It's not that serious."

"Of course, it's serious," She hugs me, "Our little Anna's getting married."

"We have a life together," I laugh against her, "I just figured we might as well."

Lizzie wipes her eyes. "Thank you. For this."

I nod my head. "You're the only person who should have it." I touch my back pocket. "I have to go do something real quick, before we leave. Would you mind finding Birdie for me? I can give you a ride back to the bridge, if you want."

"Oh, no, that's okay," She sniffs, "You two wanna get home and I wanna explore a little before I go back."

"Suit yourself."

"I'm serious about Christmas," She tells me with a finger pointed my way, "I don't know if people do that still, but I'm gonna come up with presents."

I smile. "Okay."

She smiles back,wiping another tear. "I'll go find Birdie."

…

I stare at my reflection in the water that came with breakfast. I run my hand down my wiry peppered beard. Jesus Christ, how'd I let it get this long? I look like a goddamn prospector. I need to shave this shit. I think wash day's coming up. Hope it's not too brazen to ask for scissors and a razor.

The door opens and I pick my eyes up from the cup.

"Hi."

I look her over. She looks well-rested, like she got some sleep. Her face seems clean and bright. "You're leaving."

Nan tucks some hair behind her ear. "Yeah, Birdie's back to a normal temperature, so Siddiq said it was okay to go."

I nod. "So, she's...fine? Healthy, I mean."

She smiles and nods her head. "Yeah, she's back to her old self."

"That's...good." I reply, thinking about how I have no clue what that even means.

"Well, I guess I shouldn't say her old self entirely," Nan adds, "She was stubborn about doing things for herself now, because she's three and doesn't need my help."

I grin, "Sounds like she's a real pistol."

"Yeah, she can be," Nan smiles, looking down at her hands, "I came to see how you were, before we left."

"I'm good." I tell her.

"Do you mean that?" Her eyes meet mine. They've got that look about them that I remember.

I stare back. "Yeah."

Nan nods again, breathing lightly through her nose. "The Saviors gave us a lot of stuff. I don't know when exactly we'll need to come back."

I can feel the heavy fall in my chest. "Oh," I glance down at the water, " 'Cause of the winter."

"Well, I will have to come back throughout winter, I just don't know when," She says, "Dwight might not want me coming down as much."

"Well, I guess, I'll see you when I see you." I look back at her in question. "You will come by again, right?"

Nan looks at me. She nods. "Yes, I'll come back when I can."

I nod back.

"And you'll take care of yourself, right?" She asks me. "You'll eat, sleep, go by the window for fresh air, or whatever will help you keep going?"

I gaze at her, searching her earnest face. "Yeah, I will. Try to, anyway."

"Good."

I bite my lip. "You know, you're one of the last people I'd expect to want me to keep going."

Nan looks me in the eyes. God, they're so striking and light. She blinks down. "Well...you are…"

"...I am…? What?"

She scratches her thumb. "You know." She reaches into her back pocket. "I also wanted to give this to you," She produces a folded up paper and undoes it, "She drew this awhile back."

I look at the paper in her hand. "What is it?"

Nan walks closer to the cell. "Here."

I get from my bed and go over. I take the crinkled paper from her fingers and look it over.

"I don't have a picture of her with me to replace the one that got ruined," She says, "Even so, I think I'd have to discuss that with Dwight, but I figured this might do just as well."

My eyes move across the paper and the drawings on it in crayon. They hold on the letters on the bottom right corner.

"That's her," Nan points one of the drawings, "She, um, drew it for you."

I blink up. "For me?"

Nan meets my eyes and nods. "Yeah."

I scan her face. "As in specifically for me?"

"Yes," She confirms, looking down at the drawing, "I mean, she thinks you're my friend."

"You told her about me?"

Her eyes glance up. "Just that you were in timeout. I figured 'jail' sounded like it would need more explanation...she doesn't know your name."

I drop my eyes to the drawing, nodding.

"Like I said, I know it's not-"

"Thank you."

"...What?"

"I said," I look at her, "Thank you."

She stares back. She opens her mouth to speak.

"Mommy?"

Nan's eyes dart to to the window in my cell.

"Mommy?"

My eyes peer across hers and I turn my head towards the window as well.

"Mommy?"

I exhale sharply at the voice.

"I have to go."

I turn my head forward and find her starting to step back away.

She looks at me. "Bye, Negan." Her eyes flick to the window again and then back to mine, before she turns and leaves.

I stand there for a moment, before I look back to the window. I go to it and peer out in search.

"Mommy!"

"Hey!" I hear Nan's jovial voice. "Did you find Lizzie?"

"Yeah!"

My eyes scan the outside. Where the fuck are they?

"Did you have fun with Grace?"

"Yeah, can we go to Judi's house now?"

"Actually, we better hit the road."

I catch sight of Nan, but her back's facing me.

"Daddy's probably getting pretty lonely without us around, don't you think?"

"Yeah, let's go home."

My breath huffs out. I see her. At first, I see just a small arm, linked to Nan's by the hand, but then I see her as they get further down the road. I can't see her face, because she's walking away, but I can see her.

"I miss Daddy."

…

I close the terrace door and hurry up the steps. I'm not supposed to be down there without asking.

"Mommy?"

I reach the top and as I do, I see Daryl across the street. He's sitting on the steps of a house, staring over at me.

"Mommy!"

I look to the left to see Birdie and Elizabeth coming up the street. I briefly glance at Daryl again, before turning to meet them.

"Hey!" I smile at her. "Did you find Lizzie?"

Birdie takes my hand. "Yeah!"

"Did you have fun with Grace?" I ask her as we walk towards the front of Alexandria.

"Yeah, can we go to Judi's house now?"

"Actually, we better hit the road." I tell her, uneasy about going near their house after I spent the last few days taking liberties. "Daddy's probably getting pretty lonely without us around, don't you think?"

"Yeah, let's go home," Birdie agrees, lightly swinging my arm with hers, "I miss Daddy."

"I know you do."

We approach the truck in the front and to my surprise and dismay, I see Michonne and Judith standing there. Shit, she knows. I try to act cool, as if I've done nothing wrong, as I walk up to her.

"Morning."

"Morning." I greet back.

She looks down at Birdie. "I'm glad to see she's better."

"Thank you," I say, "So am I."

"Hi!" Birdie waves at both her and Judith.

"Hi, Birdie." Michonne smiles at her. She looks at me. "We brought you some of Judith's old clothes. Thought maybe Birdie might like them, since she's growing up."

I nod my head. "Thanks. If we have room, we'll take 'em."

Michonne looks down at Judith and tilts her head towards us, as if to encourage her. Judith, somewhat abashed, reaches into her crossbody bag.

"I don't play with dolls anymore," She pulls out a little ragdoll, "You can have it, if you want, Birdie."

Birdie reaches out and takes the doll, looking it over. "Thank you."

I smile at her and then at then look at both of them. "I appreciate it."

"Of course." Michonne replies. There's something iffy in her out of the way gesture and I think I know what it is.

I meet her eyes. It's on the tip of my tongue. I just have to ask.

"Mommy, look."

I glance down at the doll Birdie's holding up. "Oh, how sweet."

When I look back up towards Michonne, I've lost the nerve. "Thanks again."

She nods and then her and Judith walk off.

"Happy Birthday, Birdie," Judith says, "Or late birthday."

"That was nice," Lizzie remarks, "I haven't been here long, but I get the sense she doesn't like outsiders."

I turn back to the truck. "I don't think either of them do, really."

"You mean Rick?" She asks. "He seems less uptight...sort of."

I chuckle, opening the door to the backseat. "Hop in, Pidge."

"Mommy, she's got strings for hair." Birdie feels the reddish brown yarn of one of the doll's pigtails.

"I know, isn't she cute?" I buckle her into the carseat.

"Hey!"

I look over in the direction of the gruff call.

Daryl comes walking up. "What you were doing just now?"

"What?"

"Down in that terrace?" He points back. "I saw you come up from it just now. What were you doin'?"

I furrow my brows a little. My eyes look briefly to Lizzie's, who looks both curious and bewildered.

"Well?"

I look to him. "I don't have you to tell you that."

"Hi, Dirl." Birdie waves from her car seat.

He glances over at her. "Hey," Before his eyes move back to mine, "Why were you-"

"You don't get to ask me that," I cut him off, frustrated, "You aren't in charge here and even if you were, I don't have to tell you why I was down there."

Daryl stares at me in his way, stepping closer. "Why ya wanna see him anyway? After everything he-"

"It's none of your business why," I stop him, "Not yours, not Maggie's. Not anyone's."

He furrows his brows. "Maggie?"

I scoff. "You know, Birdie was really sick and it could've gotten worse and Dwight couldn't be here for her, because of you."

He looks at me.

"Because you can't let shit go or forgive," I continue, angry, "I know what he did. What he did to you, I was there and it was wrong, but I think everything he did for you during the war was enough to make things right. I mean, if not, then what?"

He doesn't reply.

"What if I get sick and can't get myself here, or he gets sick and needs a doctor? Is he supposed to tough it out or drop dead, because one person can't move on?"

I scan his eyes, before I grow tired and fed up. I shut the door to the backseat and take a breath.

"I gotta go," I say, looking over, "It's a long drive back home. Later, Liz."

"What war?" Is what I hear her say as I walk around to the driver's side.

I hop in and fire up the engine.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Are you mad at Dirl?" Birdie asks from the back seat.

"Uh," I sigh, shaking my head, "No, I'm not mad at Daryl."

"You yelled at him."

"Well, sometimes adults argue," I tell her driving through the open gates, "But I'm not mad."

"Oh, okay."

"You ready to head home?"

"Um, yeah."

"Me, too." I look through the rear view mirror and see him standing there in sight.

…

I put the cigarette up to my mouth and drag the smoke into my lungs. I forgot I had one stashed away on the top of the door frame. I figured I would forget it, because who would think to look there, but for the past few days, all I've been thinking about is how I need a cigarette.

This is the only one, so I have to keep in mind not to smoke it down to nothing. It has to last to take the edge off. I exhale. Man, it feels good. I know I said I'd quit, but I can't just sit around in that house and twittle my thumbs.

As I go to bring the cigarette back up, I hear what sounds like tires and an engine. I glance down the road.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Kara315: Well, you kinda of got your wish lol. He didn't get to see her see her, but close enough. I know, I can't wait to start writing the next chapter, where Dwight will find out!**

 **CLTex: I'm glad she rebuffed Maggie, too. I think Maggie was curious in knowing how a woman could be with Negan and carry his child, but still it's not her place to ask Nan. Yeah, I want Nan and Negan to find common ground. How that'll play out once he's out and possibly a threat, I don't know, but it'll be interesting!**

 **I usually reply to reviews based on the previous chapter reviews, so if I skipped you or you have questions that are unanswered, let me know!**


	13. Chapter 13

I eye the truck coming up the road with a furrowed gaze. Is that? I drop my cigarette and grind it into the dirt. It is.

I stride toward the house just as they pull into the unpaved driveway. The door to the driver's side opens.

"Hey."

"Hey." I walk up to Nan and put my arms around her.

She hugs me back with a soft chuckle. "Hi."

I break us apart and look at her. "I didn't know you were coming back today...I didn't know when you'd be back."

"Well, we're back." She says with a smile.

"Daddy!" Birdie calls from the back seat.

I look in from the door and smile, moving to the back. I open the door and start to unbuckle her.

"Hey, Bird!"

As soon as she's undone, Birdie clings to me. "Daddy, we're home!"

"Yeah, I see that," I snicker, shutting the car door, "I missed you."

"I got sick, Daddy," She looks at me, "How come you didn't go to the doctor with us?"

"Uh-"

"Daddy had to watch after the chickens, remember?" Nan chimes in. She shrugs when I look at her.

"Oh, yeah," Birdie touches my face, "I missed you."

"Not as much as I missed you," I assure her, brushing her hair back, "How ya feeling?"

"I'm all better."

"I'm glad."

"Did you know it was my birthday?"

"I did," I tell her, "I made you something."

"What is it?"

"You'll have to wait until you open it

Nan smiles. "We've got a lot in the back."

I glance into the truck, where she's got crates stacked on crates. "Yeah, I'll say." I give Birdie a kiss on the cheek, before I set her down. "I'll unpack it all, if you want to take her in and rest for awhile."

"No, I'll help you," Nan says, putting a hand on Birdie's head, "You wanna go lay down for a while?"

"I wanna play in my room."

"Okay," She nods, "Why don't you go ahead and play in your room, so Daddy and I can unpack the car?"

"'Kay."

Nan goes to the front door to open it for Birdie and then leaves it open, so we can bring stuff in. I offer to take the heavier load and Nan doesn't fight me on it.

"This is a lot," I huff as I lug in a box full of jars filled with different things, "More than we traded."

"Yeah, all of it came from the Sanctuary." Nan sets a picnic basket down on the kitchen table. "Laura took up a collection when I was in Alexandria with Birdie."

"Huh."

"Yeah, the Saviors look out for their own," She follows me back outside, "At least that's what Laura said."

I carry the last small box in while Nan grabs the bag I had packed for her and Birdie. "What's all this?"

"Oh, that's all the stuff Birdie got for her birthday," Nan tells me, "They sort of threw her a little party while she was in the hospital."

I nod my head, looking at the things inside. "That was nice."

"Yeah…"

Her and I put everything in the kitchen away, except for the things we can store in our freezer in the garage. We check in on Birdie when it's a little quiet and find her asleep on the rug in her bedroom. Nan puts her hand on her forehead, before draping a blanket over her and letting her sleep where she is.

"I think I'm gonna lie down for awhile," Nan says, picking up the bag I had packed for both of them, "I feel a little fatigued."

"Yeah, you look it."

She smiles at me and then walks to the bedroom. I take all the crates and boxes and stack them in the garage. When I come in, I go back to the bedroom. Nan's unpacking the duffle bag on the bed.

"Thought you were gonna lie down."

"I am, but I have to do this first." She says, laying out her and Birdie's clothes.

"I'll do it," I go over, "You lie down."

"It'll only take a minute."

I step closer and she looks at me. I take the bag and playfully drag it towards me. She smiles into a light snicker and I do the same.

"If you insist," She looks back at the bag, "Thanks for sending it with Hal."

"I figured you'd need it."

She nods sitting down on the bed, "Yeah, we did. Birdie kept getting sick all over the both of us. If you didn't send clothes, we would've been naked the whole time."

"It was that bad, huh?"

"Yeah." She sighs, tired as she lays down. She rests her hands on her middle. "She's never been sick like that before. It was scary."

"Yeah, I know, it's been a rough couple of days here, too."

Nan looks up at me. "You must have been going out of your mind being here. Not knowing."

I nod my head. "I was."

She gives a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's not your fault," I take Nan's clothes to the laundry basket, "It's mine."

"No, it's not," She says, "...Its Daryl's."

I look over at her and she looks back.

"He's the only one who's still holding a grudge."

"Wouldn't you?"

She looks up at the ceiling. Her finger taps the hand on her stomach. "No."

"You only say that because we're together."

"That's not true," Nan argues mildly, "There was that time when we didn't know what would happen and I still thought you were a good person. If we didn't work things out, I'd still think you deserve forgiveness, especially after all you did for them."

"Yeah, but it's not about forgiveness." I put the empty duffle bag in the closet.

"What's it about then?" She asks.

"Redemption," I answer and we meet eyes as I pick up Birdie's laundry from the bed, "Everything I do, shit, everything the Saviors do now is all for making things right."

"There's a difference?"

I go over to her and kiss her on the lips. "Yeah, there is." I walk out to drop Birdie's clothes in her laundry basket.

…

I touch the scraggly hair on my face, squinting at the poor reflection in the underside of the tray. Jesus, how'd I let it get this bad? I mean, I know I keep harping on my scruff, but this just looks sad as fuck. _I_ look sad as fuck. Like I've given up.

The terrace door opens and Norah pauses.

"What are you doing?"

I feel the length of my beard, looking up at her. "How long have I looked like hell?"

"You mean the beard?" She arches her brow. "For awhile now."

"Fuck," I look back at my reflection, "I look like a wild animal."

"It might be nice for the winter," She says mildly, "I'll have the tray now."

I continue to look at all this man bush on my face. "Nah, I need to shave this shit."

"I can bring you some scissors."

"No, have Rick bring his razor," I say, "It's a good one."

"He's not back yet," Norah informs me, "Tray. Now...please."

I get up from my bed and walk over to the bars. "When's he gonna be?"

"Tomorrow," She takes the tray as I slide it through, "He's at the Hilltop from what I hear."

"Thought he was working on his art project?"

"He was, but when he heard that Maggie was here, he rode out to go confront her."

"For trying to kill me?" I scoff, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think he's starting to like me."

"It wasn't about you," Norah turns with her hand on the door, "Michonne told him she went to the hospital when Nan and her daughter were there."

She exits.

I stare for a second, before my eyes wander downward in thought. I go back to my bed, pulling the picture out of my shirt pocket. I unfold it and look it over, stroking my beard that needs to go.

…

"Hey."

My eyes moves behind my eyelids.

"Nan."

I open my eyes. "Hm?"

"It's one-thirty."

My hands move from my tummy to my face. "You let me sleep three hours?"

"You were tired," Dwight sets a glass of water down, "And I lost track of time."

I stretch. "You need help with the housework?"

"There isn't any," He says, "I feed the chickens this morning and aside from that, everything's been done for the past few days."

I smile at him. "You kept yourself busy trying not to go crazy?"

"Pretty much."

I inhale, nodding and stretching some more. "You should lie down. It's your turn."

"Nah, I'm fine."

"You don't sleep when you're under stress," I touch the sleeve of his shirt, "You're probably more tired than you realize."

"I'll be okay to stay up," He replies, trying not to yawn, "I thought maybe if you wrote me down the recipe, I could make Birdie's cake for you, so you could recuperate."

"Have you ever baked?"

"From a box," Dwight shrugs, "But if I can cook from scratch, baking can't be that much harder, can it?"

"Probably not," I imagine, "But baking birthday cakes is my thing."

"You can do it; I just thought you'd want to take the day to relax."

My smile grows.

He looks at me smiling and a smile of his own tips up. He snickers.

"What?"

"Nothing," He shakes his head, "...you look nice."

I look him over. "I do?"

"Yeah, I can see you're still tired, but, I don't know, you look really pretty."

My cheeks begin to warm up. I bite my lip and count to five in my head.

"I've got all the the stuff out to make the cake, whenever you're ready."

I softly put the notion to rest. "Okay, I'll be out in a minute."

Birdie slept for a good while longer than I did. We let her sleep for about an hour more before we woke her up for lunch. I'm not worried that she won't sleep at night. She burns a lot of energy when she's awake and, like me, she never really has a problem getting to sleep at night no matter how long her nap went.

She clings to Dwight all day, telling him all about how Hal and Laura came to see her at the hospital and how we had a birthday party with jello cake. Dwight listens and asks her questions here and there, so she'll keep talking. He smiles as she talks, but I can see that he's bothered. Bothered that he wasn't there and couldn't be.

I spent the afternoon baking her birthday cake. I know Dwight thought I would be tired after the last few days and the drive, and I am, but baking has never been work for me. Besides, my exhaustion is merely a symptom.

…

The winter air brushes in through the window. It's fucking cold. They throw me a coat when the weather changes. Any day now would be fucking great. The tomatoes look like they're ready to be picked for the last time before it gets warm again.

I stare that way down the road. I looked at the picture Nan gave me again when I woke up this morning. And then again after breakfast and then a few other times throughout the day. A girl runs by on the sidewalk and past the window, I hear her tread slow.

"What are you looking at?"

I turn my head and see the girl by the steps above the terrace. "What's it to you?"

She shrugs her shoulder. "Just asking."

"Yeah, well mind your own fucking business."

"Language, asshole," The girl retorts, "I'm eight."

I chuckle at the familiar face she makes and the attitude in her tone. "Well, excuse me, little lady." My brows furrow. "Oh, and hey, why the hell didn't you mention there was little girl in the hospital?"

The girl looks confused.

"The other day when I asked you about all the commotion." I remind her.

"Oh...I thought you meant Aunt Maggie."

"I meant the car horn," I say "How the hell would I have known about Maggie?"

She shrugs again. "Why do you care?"

"Because I do," I reply, "I asked, didn't I?"

"Do know them?" She asks. "Birdie and her mom?"

"You could say that," I tell her, "Do you?"

"Yeah," She answers, "Sometimes when they come into town, Birdie comes over when her mom has to get the things they need."

I nod my head. When she comes to see me.

"How do you know them?"

I look away. "Nan's an old friend of mine."

"Oh, well, I didn't know that."

"Nah, why would you?" I breathe.

"Are you friends with her dad, too?"

I huff. "That's not….no, not really."

"Judith!" Michonne calls out from distance.

The girl look in that direction. "I have to go. I've got school."

"See ya, kid."

She lingers for a moment, but then shrugs and walks off.

Why the fuck did I say that? Or almost say that? That kid doesn't know that or give a shit, I imagine.

I breathe through my nose, picking my eyes up again to the road. I can see the two of them walking up the road like they had. I can hear her voice.

I know I said it was better this way, but it's not. I want to see more of her. Hear more of her. I want to meet her.

I thought it was better she didn't know me, but maybe I'm wrong. Hell, I've been wrong before. I thought Nan would never come back.

Maybe if I'm honest with her when she's old enough to ask, it won't be so bad. Maybe she'd understand, or at least forgive me.

I want to see her again. Talk to her. I gotta get out of here.

…

"Happy Birthday to you!"

Once Nan and I are done singing, Birdie blows her three candles with a gust of breath stronger than necessary. We clap and cheer for her. I flick on the kitchen lights as Nan starts to cut the cake she made.

It's just a simple vanilla cake with buttercream frosting. She was a little disappointed that she couldn't do anything more special, but I told her that Birdie didn't care. All she cared about was the cake itself, not what it looked like. Nan cut her a small piece, afraid of upsetting her stomach after being sick for the last few days.

"Here, use a fork." Nan hands her a clean fork.

"'Kay," Birdie holds the fork awkwardly like she does, "I'm big now, I don't eat with my hands no more."

"Good job, baby."

"I'm not a baby, Mommy, I'm a big girl."

Nan smiles mildly. "Yeah…"

I look at the smile on her face. At first, I thought she looked upset by Birdie saying that. Nan cried after all of Birdie's milestones, saying that she was growing up too fast. But I'm not sure she is upset. She looks like she realizes that, but is somehow alright.

She looks at me. "Is this a big enough piece?"

I blink, glancing down at where she's got the knife. "Uh, yeah."

"Okay." She sinks the blade into the soft cake, cutting a near perfect triangle. She slides the piece of cake onto a plate and extends it to me with a fork. "Here."

"Thanks," I set it in front of me, "You're not having any?"

"Mm, not right now, I'm sort of full from dinner." She puts a finger to her mouth to eat a smudge of frosting from it.

I nod, twirling my fork. "Okay." She didn't really eat dinner.

Nan smiles down at Birdie. "Is it good?"

"Yeah." She says with frosting on her lips.

"Good," She kisses her head, "I love you. Big girl."

I smile a little. "So, what'd you get for your birthday, Bird?"

"Um...shoes."

"Shoes? That's it?"

"Um, no, I forget."

"You got books from Aunt Tonya and your other aunts got you crayons and paper," Nan reminds her, "And Aunt Frankie made you a hat and mittens. And you got new clothes and a doll from Judith."

"Oh, yeah."

"And your friends made you cards."

"Yeah, and I got a knife."

I furrow my brows and look at Nan.

She's already looking at me. "Hal gave her a swiss army knife and a compass. I let her keep the compass."

I nod my head, looking back to Birdie. "Sounds like you made out like a bandit."

Birdie glances at me, unsure of what a bandit is. "Um...yeah, and Lizzie was there."

"Yeah."

"What'd Lizzie get you?"

"Nothing," Nan answers, "She just came to see her."

I nod. "Are you two still okay?"

"Yeah…" She sighs, "We had a little talk before we left and I think it made us even better. Or will anyway."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," She looks over, "I gave her the ring Charlie gave me."

I knit my brows. "Oh...how come?"

She shrugs. "Because I don't need it anymore."

I nod my head, looking at my fork.

Nan strokes Birdie's hair, inspecting the ends. "Your hair's getting long, kiddo."

"I like it." Birdie eats.

"You do?" Nan gently brings a strand down to Birdie's shoulder. "You want long hair?"

"Yeah."

"But you always want it up and out of your face."

"So?"

She snickers, petting her head once more. "You gotta get ready for bed soon."

"Aw, but I have to open my presents!"

"You opened them all, except Daddy's."

"I want to open Daddy's."

I get up from the table. "Okay, but you've got to get to bed after."

" 'Kay."

I grab the present I made for her from our bedroom and walk back to the kitchen. I hand her the present wrapped in paper we've saved from previous years kept together with string.

"Happy birthday, baby."

"Oh, wow, this is a big one." Nan watches her try it pull the string loose.

"Here." Birdie starts to hand it to her.

Nan reaches over her. "Daddy just got the string the a little tight."

She pulls the twine open and helps Birdie unwrap the gift. Her eyes change and her lips form a slow "oh".

"What's that?" Birdie touches it.

Nan moves her fingers over the wood. "It's a puzzle," She picks up the "B" and feels it, "The blocks spell out your name." Nan looks at me. "It's beautiful, D."

"Turn it over."

Nan takes all the blocks off the wooden base and turns the board over. Her fingers move against the burned engrave in the corner that reads "Love, Mom and Dad."

The way she looks down makes the light reflect the pool in her eyes.

"I wanna see." Birdie says, picking up one of the block puzzle pieces.

"Yeah? You wanna do it?" Nan turns the board over. "Okay, let's spell your name out."

"I figured when she gets too old for it, we can put up on the wall in her room."

She nods, handing the pieces to Birdie.

Nan lets Birdie play with the puzzle for about twenty minutes after she opens it. Because of the extra time, she skips bathing Birdie tonight and just settles her down for bed, while I clean up the kitchen.

It feels good to have them home. The day wasn't rushed with excitement because of them being back. It was quiet, because Nan and Birdie slept for awhile, but it was nice. Nice to have my family home and sound. It made me sound.

"Hey."

I look over, hearing Nan's voice over the water. "Hey."

"Want some help?"

"Nah, I've got it."

"Sorry you had to wash all mine," She pads over, looking at the dishes on the drying rack she had dirtied up earlier.

"That's okay," I dry off a plate, "You can do 'em tomorrow after breakfast."

She snickers, pulling out a drawer. "Are you planning on making a mess tomorrow morning?"

"Pancakes."

"Hm," She cuts a piece of cake from the leftover on the counter, "I think I can handle it."

"Yeah?" I glance over at her stealing another bite. "Why don't you get a plate and have a piece?"

She shrugs, licking frosting off her fork. "I don't want any."

"Could've fooled me the way your digging your fork into it," I tease, continuing the dishes, "I thought we were supposed to save the rest for my birthday?"

Nan chuckles with the fork sliding from her lips. "No, I said I was making you your own."

"Oh, well, carry on."

Nan takes one more bite, before she hands me the fork to wash. She then covers the cake and pushes it to the side.

"Do you like birthdays?"

I shrug. "Yeah, its fun watching her blow out her candles."

"I meant yours, silly."

"Oh," I stick her fork in the dry rack's holder, "I guess."

"Why not?"

"I didn't say I didn't."

"No, but you're always so nonchalant about it, like you don't care or don't want to celebrate it."

I shrug again. "I don't know. I like celebrating other people's birthdays. Mine's just whatever."

"Why is it whatever?"

"I'm an adult, it's just another year older."

"Yeah, and another year of being alive."

"Yeah."

She puts her arms around me from behind, burying her face in my back. "That puzzle you made Birdie was beautiful."

"It was-"

"It was beautiful," She doesn't give me the chance, "How'd I get so lucky to find someone like you?"

"Bad luck."

She chuckles. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She kisses my shoulder. "You better start liking your birthday."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," She hops up on the countertop, "Because I have a surprise for you and if you don't change your attitude, I'll just keep it to myself."

"Who says I've got attitude?" I smile at her threat.

"I do," She says, crossing her ankles, "So, buck up. You're gonna be thirty-five in less than two days and you're going to enjoy it."

"I didn't say I didn't enjoy my birthdays either," I chuckle, "All I said was that it was just another year."

"Yeah, and it sounds depressing when you say it like that."

"Well, it's not," I stick the last dish in the rack, "Not with you and her around."

Nan's eyes grow soft and sweet, her smile timid but warm.

"Well….that's more like it."

I can't help but chuckle at her vain effort to sound cool and collected. I dry my hands on the small towel. "What's the surprise?"

Her smile picks up. "It wouldn't be a surprise, if I told you, silly."

I toss the towel on the counter, before stepping in front of her. She smiles as I do.

"Is it what I think it is?"

Nan chuckles. "Depends on what you think it is."

I place my hands on her hips and she drapes her arms around my shoulders. I kiss her. "This."

"Mm," She pecks my lips and her legs part as I move between them, "And what is this exactly?"

"I think you know."

She laughs. "Not sex. We can have that any 'ol time."

"Damn, that's usually what it is." I laugh with her, before I move my hands up her legs. "Is it something you're wearing?" My fingers find the pantylines under her pajama bottoms.

She arches her brow with a smile. "You mean, lingerie? Why would I get something you're just gonna toss on the floor after five seconds of seeing me in it?"

I smile, kissing her. "Because it makes you feel pretty."

She smiles. " _You_ make me feel pretty."

"That's because you are," I put my lips hers, wantonly, "You're beautiful."

Nan snickers at the feel of my mouth roaming to her jaw and neck. Her hand touches the back of my head. "Did you miss me?"

"What sort of question is that?" I touch her hip and the small of her back, urging her closer to the edge of the counter.

She breathes against me, then lets out a light giggle. "You think we should do this here?"

"Birdie's asleep."

Nan chuckles huskily, taking her hand out of my hair. "Yeah, but your surprise…"

I feel her warm skin under her shirt. "Surprise me again in two days."

She laughs, when my hand cups one of her breasts. "I told you it wasn't sex."

"Then why can't we?"

She fingers affectionately tuck some hair behind my ear. "Because I told the doctor I'd take it easy after all the stress I was under with Birdie."

"Take it easy?" I look at her, bewildered. "Why do you…?"

My words trail off as she gazes at me. Her coy smile invites me to guess. My brows raise from their furrowedness.

"Are you…?" I look in her in the eyes.

"Pregnant?" She says after I just stand there looking at her like an idiot.

I nod my head.

Nan's smile grows as she starts to nod. "Yes."

I stare, blown away. When I finally breathe out, a smile forms. "Yes?"

"Uh-huh."

"You're pregnant?"

She laughs like I do, nodding. "Yeah."

Breath huffs out again. I touch her bright face. "How...when did you-"

"I was late, so I took a test in Alexandria," She tells me, putting her hands on mine, "I'm two weeks along."

I laugh breathily, kissing her.

"Are you happy?" She holds me.

"Yeah," I chuckle with tears forming in my eyes, "Yeah, I am."

Nan sighs softly. "Me, too."

I move apart. I look her over. Her face is warm and radiant. I sweep hair from her face.

She opens her mouth to speak, but then she reaches for me by the shirt and kisses me.

"Marry me."

I disrupt the kiss, looking at her. "What?"

She licks her lips, still holding onto me. "Marry me, Dwight."

My eyes peer at her intensely. I crash my mouth into hers and she laughs.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading this short but sweet chapter!**


	14. Chapter 14

The curtains flow with the early winter breeze sweeping in from the open window. I get up when the sky is just starting to change to shut it. Goosebumps wave across my skin and it sends a thrill through me. I smile as I foot it back to the bed, bringing the covers up. Dwight breathes in through his nose and turns over to his side from his back. I delicately move a strand of hair that fell just at his nose.

"Thanks."

I smile softly. "You're welcome."

"How long you been awake?"

"Just fifteen minutes or so," I murmur, "I had a little morning sickness."

He shifts closer to me until his head his on me. I hold him in my arms affectionately. I've always loved this about Dwight; these private and intimate moments of vulnerability where he lets me hold him. I feel like a hearth where he goes to be warm and safe enough to sleep.

"I'd get up to make you coffee, but I guess maybe you shouldn't be drinking it,huh?"

"Mm, not until I know if my blood pressure will be high like last time." I say, resting my head between my pillow and the headboard.

"Yeah, well, you won't be so stressed this time."

I smile. "You sound like you're gonna see to that."

"I am," He breathes with his eyes closed, "I'm gonna make sure of it."

My fingers traipse his hair. "Are you happy?"

"Yes, I'm happy."

I snicker to myself. "Wanna hear something funny?"

"Hm?

"I was worried you wouldn't be."

Dwight furrows his brows. "Why'd you think that?"

I shrug my shoulder. "I don't know, I guess I thought you'd think it was bad timing or something."

He opens his eyes, looking at me. "How would it be bad timing?"

"I don't know," I sigh, "We never really discussed having more kids."

"Oh…"

I look him over. "Had you ever thought about it?"

"About having more kids?"

"Yeah."

He nods, looking down in thought. "...Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, like that time you thought you were pregnant?" He says, "I remember Birdie was still little. Just a little over a year, maybe?"

"Yeah." I nod, remembering.

"Yeah," Dwight nods, "Well, when you went to town, I thought about what would happen if you were pregnant again so soon."

"And?"

He shrugs. "I just thought, 'we'll figure it out'."

I smile warmly. "You're a good man, Dwight, you know that?"

Dwight shrugs again. "I try to be anyway."

"Well, you are," I tell him, "I don't know a better person alive out there than you."

Dwight sits up and kisses me on the lips. "That's only because of you."

"No, that's just who you are."

"I lost who I was," He says to me, "I might not have wanted to find that person again, if I hadn't met you."

I look at him, touched, before I roll my eyes. "You sap!"

He smiles into a chuckle, leaning back against the headboard.

I sniff at these damn hormones. "I'm sorry, that was a lovely thing to say."

He puts his hand on my knee. "Yeah, well, I meant it."

"Stop it."

He lets out a humored breath. "I'm not doing anything."

"Yes, you are and you know it."

He looks over. "What? Are you crying?"

"No," I shake my head, "It's just hormones."

"Who's the sap?"

I scoff. "I said it was hormones."

"Yes, dear."

I smile again, laughing with him. "I'm glad you agree with me, because it's true."

"Happy wife, happy life."

"Shut your mouth," I chuckle, before raising my brow, "Speaking of which, you haven't given me an answer."

He meets my expectant gaze and smiles. "Yeah, I'll marry you."

I peck his lips. "Well, I should hope so, considering you got me pregnant."

Dwight chuckles as he puts his lips to mine. "Shut up."

I gaze at him, bright with joy. "I'm really happy."

"Me, too."

I breathe contently, lying here in bed with him, the universe in my favor.

"So, how do you want to do it?"

I look back to him. "What do you mean?"

"We just agreed to be married," Dwight reminds me, "Don't you want a wedding?"

"Oh," I sit up and look down in thought, "Um...I don't know. Do you?"

Dwight shrugs his shoulder. "If you want one."

I make a face. "I think I'd rather it just be the three of us having a picnic or something."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's less about the ceremony to me and more about us starting a new chapter together."

"Isn't that what the ceremony's about?"

I shrug. "I guess, but we're good at living our lives without needing a round of applause."

He smiles at that.

"Do you want a wedding? If you do, we can. It's not just about what I want."

Dwight shakes his head nonchalantly. "Honey, I don't care. I just want to start calling you my wife."

I smile, I leaning his way to kiss him. "I'd like you to call me that." I giggle without meaning to. "When I see people in town now, I'll get to say, 'my husband wanted me to get this, or I have to leave soon, I told my husband we'd be back before it got dark.'"

Dwight snickers at me. "You're a dork."

I start to chuckle, before I quit. "Hey, you'll never get the chance to do the same."

He glances over briefly, feeling his facial hair. "Sure, I will. I'll say it to you, or...whenever Hal comes up again."

"That's true, I guess," I kiss him again. "I love you."

"I love you, too, _wife_."

I laugh lightly, exhaling as I feel the slow but sure feeling of nausea. "Damn...I thought I might be over it."

"Over what?"

"Morning sickness, " I tell him, draping my arm over my eyes, "I've been throwing up left and right."

"Really? I don't remember your morning sickness being bad last time."

"Mm-mm," I shake my head, "It wasn't too bad with Birdie, but I have a feeling this one is gonna give it to me."

"Want me to get you some of that mint tea?"

"No, I'll just throw it up," I say with a sigh, "Morning sickness can't be reasoned with."

He snickers quietly, rubbing my arm. After a minute he says, "Nan?"

"Hm?" I reply, trying to focus on not vomiting.

"How do you wanna tell Birdie?"

I open my eyes. Birdie.

…

"May I ask what you're doing?"

I push myself up and then move to sit on the ground. "What? You've never seen a push-up before?"

"I've never seen you do any," Norah retorts, bringing over my tray, "All I've ever seen you do in here is sit and mope."

I grin, getting off the floor. "You wanna trade places and show me how rotting in a cell is done?"

She huffs. "I sure as hell wouldn't spend the time feeling sorry myself."

"Fair enough," I reach down to grab the tray, "Boy, the cook must think I'm real cute, because the grub lately's been fucking dynamite."

Norah raises her brow. She's the one who cooks all my meals. "She's just tired of having to make two separate meals all the damn time. You're not all that."

"But I'm something."

"Yeah, an asshole."

I chuckle. "You know, every woman I've fucked has called me an asshole."

She guffaws wryly. "And what does that tell you?"

"That women love assholes."

Norah puts her hand on her hip. "I'd say it says you don't know how to treat women."

At that, I feel my humored smile start to wane. I look down at my food.

"I'll be back in an hour."

"Hey."

"What?"

I stick my tongue in my cheek. "Mind bringing me a book when you do?"

"What book?"

"I don't fucking know, just a book."

"Any book?"

"Yes."

"Okay, fine."

"Thanks." I say, as she leaves. I exhale, before I sit down on my cot to eat my lunch.

A new wave of energy has hit me ever since I saw Birdie. I know it was just the back of her, but seeing her made me eager to turn shit around. Stop moping the fuck around like Norah said and fucking do something productive or meaningful while I'm stuck in this cell. Farfetched as it sounds, I want to get out of here.

…

"Bird, what I'd say about your mittens?"

"Um, keep 'em on."

"Yeah, so why do you have one off?"

"To pet the chickens," She replies, stroking the feathers of a chicken that's pecking the feed off the ground, "They missed me, Daddy."

I exhale and my breath fogs out as I scatter more feed. "You're gonna catch a cold, if you don't keep warm. Then you'll have to take more medicine."

Birdie looks up. "I don't like medicine." She extends her gloved hand that holds the other mitten. "Here."

I take it, before reaching down for the eggs. "Come on, we can go inside now."

"Put it on my hand, please."

"You need to wash your hand after petting the chickens," I open the door to the kitchen and let her go in first."

"Where's Mommy?"

"Mom's using the bathroom, remember." I say, after it's clear that she hasn't left the bathroom since she started getting sick this morning.

"She needs to hurry."

"You need to go?"

"Mm, no, I just wanna talk to her." Birdie steps onto her stool to wash her hands.

I set the thing of eggs I collected on the counter and then turn the water on for her. "What do you want to talk to her about?"

"It's a secret." She tells me putting her hand out to reach for the bar of soap on the dish by the sink.

I hand to her and let her lather it between hands herself. "A secret? What secret?"

"Can't tell you, it's a secret." She says.

I knit my brows, before I see Nan coming down the hall. Her skin is shiny from all the sweat from throwing up and her hair looks messy.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," She sniffs, blotting her watery eyes, "Nothing with a strong smell today, D."

I nod. "How about oatmeal?"

"That's fine."

"Mommy!" Birdie hops off the stool and runs over. "I have to talk to you 'bout our secret!"

"Our secret?" Nan leans down, confused.

Birdie cups her hand over Nan's ear and makes little whisper noises.

Nan smiles. "You're silly."

"Got you!" She cackles. "There's not a secret!"

"I think you spent too much time with Hal and Laura."

"I'm funny!" Birdie laughs, walking back to me. "Daddy, I wanna go fish again."

"I don't know, Bird," I tell her, hesitant because the tension it caused last time, "It's cold out and you just got over being sick."

"But I want fish and chips."

"Well, maybe I'll go fishing today."

"I wanna go with you." She holds a part of my shirt.

"I think you should stay home with Mom."

"Mom can go, too."

"Why don't we wait until it warms up?" Nan suggests, "That way the weather will be nice and we can have a picnic."

"Um…"

"And maybe we can go swimming." She adds.

"Okay!" Birdie agrees with no idea that it won't get warm enough go until spring.

"Okay." Nan smiles, looking over at me. "I'll be right back."

She pads off out of the room and down the hall towards the bathroom.

She comes back just in time for breakfast. I know she said that the mint tea wouldn't help, but I made some anyway, if not to at least get the taste of bile out of her mouth. I feel bad for her, because I can tell she's trying hard not to gag as she brings a spoonful of oatmeal up to her mouth by the way her eyes close and she swallows just before taking the bite.

Finally, Nan just gives up and puts the spoon down as if nothing's wrong. "Is it good, Birdie?"

"Yeah." Birdie nods with a glob of oatmeal in her mouth.

"Good."

I look at her. "You want me to make you some toast?"

"No, I think the smell would be too much." She says, dry heaving a little as if she can smell the toast in her head.

"Eat your food, Mommy."

"I'm not hungry, baby," She tells Birdie, "I had a good dinner."

"I'm not a baby no more."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Nan says, looking Birdie over, "You're a big girl."

"Yeah."

Nan pushes back her chair. "I'll be right back."

I watch her go back down the hall. I get up after a minute.

"Hey, where you going?"

"I'm gonna check on Mom real quick," I answer, "Small bites while I'm gone."

"'Kay."

I go to our bedroom, expecting to find her in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet, but instead I find her sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Hey," I say softly, "What's going on?"

Nan shrugs with tears in her eyes. "Nothing."

"You're crying over nothing?"

"It's just hormones."

"No, it's not," I argue, "So, what is it?"

She shrugs again, before looking at me. "Birdie's not a baby anymore."

I stare at her grief, suddenly sympathetic. "Oh...well-"

"She grew up too fast." Nan laments.

"Honey," I walk over to her, "She just turned three. She's still a toddler, or whatever, right? She's still a baby."

"No, she's not, she's a 'big girl'," She sniffs, "One day, I'm breastfeeding her and the next she's telling she's not a baby anymore."

I sit down beside her on the bed.

"It feels like just yesterday I was holding her in my arms for the first time back at Sanctuary."

I glance her way. "She's still a baby, Nan."

"No, she's not," Nan wipes a tear from her face, "She's growing up, Dwight."

"Well, yeah...but that's a good thing," I tell her, "It means we're doing our jobs, right?"

She breathes. "Yeah...it's just that…"

"That what?"

"I was afraid of what would happen, if we couldn't get the fever down," Nan brushes off another tear, "Of losing her. And then it did go down and she had her birthday and I found out I was pregnant all in one fell swoop. It was like everything flashing before my eyes."

She meets my eyes. "Birdie changed my life. She gave me strength when I felt powerless and a voice when I was angry."

I take her hand and she holds mine tight.

"It feels unimaginable that I could love another baby like I've loved her."

"I know." I say, truthfully.

"I can't believe I'm gonna be a mother again."

"Me neither."

Nan lets out a soft breath. "...But I'm glad I am," She looks at me, "With you."

I smile. "I'm gonna go back to the kitchen. Birdie's still eating."

"I'll come with you." Nan rises, cleaning her face.

I lick my lips. "Think maybe we should tell her?"

Nan peers up and after a moment of thinking, nods.

The two of us return to the kitchen, where Birdie's stirring her oatmeal in the bowl.

"Are you making a mess?"

"No, I'm cooking." Birdie tells Nan

We sit down at the table. "Birdie?"

"What?" She looks at me.

I clear my throat. "Um, Mom and I want to tell you something."

"A secret?"

"Um, no, not a secret," I say, glancing over at Nan, "Do you wanna tell her?"

Nan taps her finger against her arm, nervous. She looks over at Birdie, who's looking her way now. "Um, Birdie, Mommy…and Daddy are…" Her eyes appear to scan Birdie's, "Are getting married."

"Married?" Birdie repeats the word.

"Yeah," Nan glances over at me, "We're getting married."

"What that?"

"Um, it means that we are gonna be husband and wife."

"Ooh." Birdie says, still confused. We never really discussed marriage and what that means to her. "Good job."

We both chuckle.

"Poun' it." Birdie puts her fist out and wants both of us to bump fists with her. "I'm done."

"You're done eating?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Nan goes to pull her chair back, so she can get down, but Birdie slides herself under the table and crawls out, running to the living room and then the hall.

Nan looks over at me as she cleans up Birdie's breakfast. "What?"

"You didn't tell her."

"I told her we were getting married," She carries her dishes to the sink, "Or are married."

"Yeah, but we-"

"I think we should wait," She turns from the sink, "I'm only two weeks."

I look at her, knowing what she's implying.

Her mouth makes an anxious line. "It's just, I think it might be hard for her to understand that I'm carrying a baby inside me and I even harder for her to understand that I'm not, if…"

"Yeah," I nod my head, "So...when do you want to tell her?"

Nan shrugs. "I don't know….Maybe around the new year?"

"That long?"

"Well, I just want to be on the cautious side," She says, turning on the water in the sink, "I haven't told anyone else, except you. Siddiq and Laura are the only other two who know, but they won't say anything."

"Laura?" I knit my brows. "Why does Laura know?"

"She saw the pregnancy test," Nan answers over the running water, "And Siddiq knows because he gave me the test to take."

I nod.

"Are you going out today?"

"I better," I tell her, drinking my lukewarm coffee, "I haven't been doing redirect since you were in town."

"Hm, well, if you have time, maybe you should go fishing."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, fish and chips does sound pretty good."

"I'll try, if not, I can always go tomorrow."

"No, because tomorrow I'm cooking dinner," Nan smirks my way, "And dessert."

I scoff, amused. "I thought you said the doctor told you take things easy?"

"I meant a cake, pervert." She laughs, but I know it wasn't what she meant.

…

I wake up from my cat nap when I hear the terrace door open. About damn time. That was way fucking longer than an hour.

"Did you fall down a well on your way over?" I look over, finding Gabriel shutting the door instead of Norah, whom I was expecting. "Well, shit, look who it is."

"Afternoon."

"I haven't seen you in hell knows how long," I grin, sitting up in my cot, "Damn, I see you've still got that freaky lookin' eye."

"Norah had other matters to attend to, so I offered to come down for her."

"Is that right?" I chuckle. "I thought you weren't allowed to fuck anyone with that spiffy little collar on?"

"I'm merely offering my assistance where it is needed," Gabe tells me, staring at me through the bars, "Even if it is a task I'd prefer not to do."

I smirk. "Well, I won't tell anyone, if you won't."

"I'm an episcopalian priest," He rolls his eye," We aren't required to take vows of celibacy."

"Oh, so you are allowed to get it on with your flock?" I humor, "So, what's stopping you?"

"Common decency."

"It's the eye, isn't it?" I taunt him. "Well, hell, ladies love shit like that. Get an eye patch, you'll be drowning in pussy."

"Look, I just came here to get your tray and give you the book Norah said you wanted," He sternly says to me, "You don't have to be an asshole."

My eyes catch sight of the book in his hand. I roll my eyes. "Ah, hell, I know I told her I didn't care what book she brought me, but the 'Good Book' isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"It's not a bible," He extends the book to me, irritable, "Here, take it and then give me your tray, so I can leave."

I take the book and look over the cover. " _Wuthering Heights_? Isn't this some sappy romance?"

"Your tray."

I exhale, walking over to the cot, where I've got the meal tray below. I plop the book down on my bed and take Gabe the tray.

"Thank you."

"What? You aren't gonna stick around?" I call to him as he starts to leave. "Not even to gloat?"

"Gloat about what?"

"About how I might not have ended up here, if I had let you 'save me'."

"You were supposed to end up here," Gabriel replies, "I see that now."

"Why? Because I'm unsavable?"

"No, because you didn't want saving," He counters, "Because you believed yourself to be the savior of all mankind. You had to learn a lesson in humility."

I scoff, stifling an eye roll. I lick my lips. "What if I learned that already?"

He huffs in response.

"I'm serious," I insist, touching the bar, "What if I'm...ready to listen? What if I wanted to, I don't know, turn a new leaf?"

"You mean repentance?" He asks, intrigued.

"Yeah, or work on making shit right."

"Are you asking for my help?"

I stick my tongue in my cheek, before sighing. I can't believe I'm about to say this. "Yes, I am asking for your help."

Gabe's silent for a moment as he stands by the door. He thinks I'm lying. "Okay, I will agree to work with you towards forgiveness, if you are willing to be serious."

"I am," I look at him, "I...I want to be a better person for my daughter."

He continues to stare mildly. He knows about Birdie. He lived at the Sanctuary around the time Nan was pregnant. He must be thinking it's a lost cause.

"I can start coming every Thursday, if you'd like. That's tomorrow."

I nod my head. "Yeah, my books are open."

"Alright," He nods, "I'll be back tomorrow around one." He leaves.

I shuffle over to my bed, picking up the book again. I scoff; setting it down. I go over to the window to look out.

"How many inches are in a yard?"

I furrow my brows, looking away from the road and to the steps above the terrace. It's that kid again.

"Excuse me?"

"It's a homework question," She says, "I forgot."

I look her over. "Thirty-six, I think."

"So, then if Amanda is building a pen that's two yards wide and three yards long, how many inches is that all together?"

"What sort of animal is going in a small ass pen like that?"

"A horse."

"A small horse?"

"Do you know or not?"

I can't help but smirk. "Multiply four times thirty-six for the width and six times thirty-six for the length and then add those two answers together."

She's quiet for a few minutes. "I got three hundred and sixty."

"That's what I got."

"You did?"

"Yep."

"Good, because I really didn't want to do the problem over."

I chuckle lightly. "What are you doing here?"

"My homework," She retorts, "Duh."

"I meant, what are you doing doing your homework here?"

She shrugs. "What does it matter to you?"

I scoff, "You never sit there. I'd know, I've been sitting in the same place for three fucking years."

"Language."

I crack a smile. "Sorry."

She folds her book and gets up.

"Well, hey, I didn't say you couldn't sit there."

"I'm done with my homework," She tells me, "That's all."

I nod my head. "Let me know, if you need anymore help with homework."

"I'll think about it." She says as she walks off out of sight.

What a girl. Definitely takes after her dad and brother with the attitude. What was her name again?

I think for a moment about what her name is, but I give up and go back to my bed. I take up the book as I go to sit down. I look at the cover once more, before opening it, resigning to read it.

…

I rise out of the bathwater in a mad dash hurry to make it to the toilet. Unfortunately, I'm not fast enough and lose it over the edge of the tub.

I exhale, sicker than a dog. "Shit."

I pull myself all the way out of the water and reach for my towel. Taking a bath was a bad idea; the wave-like flow of the water every time I moved a muscle had me feeling seasick.

"Whoa." Dwight halts just as he enters the bathroom.

"Happy Birthday." I greet dryly.

He chuckles. "Hey, wait, don't get out while there's vomit on the floor. You could slip."

"I have to clean it up."

"I'll do it," He grabs a rag for under the sink, "Stay there."

I shiver at the first gust of air that chills my skin. "I feel awful."

"I don't mind."

I clutch my towel to me. "You're the only person nice enough to not mind cleaning up someone else's puke."

"Yeah, well," He rings out the rag, "I don't mind for people I care about."

I smile, despite feeling like hell. "This isn't how I wanted you to start your morning."

"Hm," He notes, gingerly picking up the bathmat, "How'd you want me to start my morning?"

A demure, naughty smile tips up on my face.

He looks at me right as he's about to clean the floor, after I don't reply and reads my answer. "You're somebody's mother."

I laugh. "I'm about to be a mother of two."

Dwight goes back to cleaning. "Yeah."

I sigh, feeling sweat trickle down my face from the steam of the hot bath. "I never thought my life could be this good."

"Yeah," He says, standing up to walk over to the sink, "Me neither."

I can't help but smile at him. "Is it safe to come out?"

He gives the rag a good twist before dropping it in the sink. "Yeah, but hold on."

I wait as he washes his hands and dries them off, before he treads over. He reaches his hand out and I take it as I climb out of the bath.

"Thanks."

Dwight's other hand touches my hip as he draws me close.

I look up at him. "I've got puke breath."

He kisses my cheek. "You always look beautiful when you've been in the tub."

"It's only sweat."

"Still." He pecks my cheek again.

I snicker against him. "D, I'm liable to hurl at any given moment." I drape my arms over his shoulders. "Let's wait until tonight. I'll be fine by then."

He looks me over. "I'm just kidding, Nan. We don't have to do anything."

"It's your birthday," I feel my towel start to slip, "And I'm not crafty like you, so I have to work with what I got."

Dwight breaks into a humored smile. "You can make me a cake. That can be my gift."

"I was planning on it," I tell him, finger-stepping his chest, "But you can have a little extra sugar for your birthday."

"Who talks like that?" He laughs.

I chuckle with him. "I'm not very good at sexy talk, am I?"

"No, you're not," Dwight gives me a light kiss on the forehead, "But it's funny to see you try."

I feel up for eating some fruit for breakfast while Dwight and Birdie have pancakes. I eat in the living room to keep the sweet smell of batter from making me run to the bathroom. Birdie gets a kick out of it, since I'm sitting on her time-out stool in the corner because it's just far enough to where I can't smell enough to upset my stomach.

She says that I'm in timeout for being mean to Daryl, which I thought she would have forgotten about by now. I swear that kid has too good a memory for a toddler. I know she'll forget about it soon, like she'll forget about my friend in timeout, whom she hasn't brought up.

As I eat in the corner, I do think about him. I don't think I've ever seen Negan so candid as I saw him a couple days ago. Even the time he told me about his wife can't seem to compare. It was unnerving, but it invoked sympathy in me.

Then again, I never saw him being behind bars as a moment of victory or a time to gloat like I'm sure most people do. I can't say I blame them after all he put so many people through. I don't know; I used to want Dwight and I to run away from Negan, from the Sanctuary, and live a life as happy as the one we live now with our daughter. But now that Negan is where he's at, I feel this inexplicable compelling to inquire about him. I suppose it's because of Birdie.

Dwight insists on doing nothing special for his birthday like he does every year. He goes about his day like he normally would. I spend the late morning and afternoon making a carrot cake for after dinner while Birdie plays around the house in between watching _The Sound of Music_ for the millionth time. We should have gotten her a new movie while in town, but I don't think there's a lot of those lying about now.

Dwight comes home around four with about six or seven fish on a line. "Hey."

"Hey," I look at the fish, "I thought I said I was making dinner?"

"I know, but I was down past the barricades, so I thought I'd see if anything would bite."

I put my hand on my hip. "Yeah, but honey, I have a meatloaf in the oven and potatoes on the stove."

"Okay, I'll just clean 'em and stick 'em in the freezer," He starts to walk toward the sink, "We'll have them tomorrow."

I water my herbs about the sink as he cleans the fish. "Some guts fell down the disposal."

"I know I saw." He reaches down into the garbage disposal to retrieve the lost fish entrails. It stopped working a few weeks ago and he hasn't been able to fix it and is not sure he ever will, so we have to make sure nothing is left down there.

Once he's done cleaning the fish out, he packs them and takes them to the garage to the freezer.

"Mommy?"

"Hm?"

"Are you sick?"

"No, I'm not sick."

"You throwed up your lunch." Birdie says, smoothing back the hair of the doll she got from Judith.

"I know, my tummy was just upset."

"Why?"

"Um, just because."

"Okay…Mommy, I want my hair like hers."

"Pigtails?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, go get your comb."

Birdie returns with her comb and I get one hair tie from a drawer and gently pull the one she's got in her hair out.

"You sure you want pigtails?" I ask her as I comb out her hair.

"Yeah."

"You're not gonna change your mind?"

"Nope."

"Okay."

Sure enough, I put her hair in little pigtails, she runs to the bathroom to see, and then comes back and says she doesn't like them and wants me to redo them. I decide to pull them halfway into little buns, since that's usually what she likes aside from a ponytail, because the buns aren't 'too tight'.

"There, how's that?"

"Wait a minute." Birdie runs to the bathroom. She returns. "I look cute!"

I chuckle. "You certainly do."

The door to the garage opens. "Hey, honey?"

I turn my head in that direction. "Yeah?"

Dwight comes into the kitchen with a small basket. "What's all this?"

I look in. "Oh, just a few random things I got from town. I didn't know what to do with them, so I put them out there."

He nods. "What's this?" He pulls out a wrinkled brown paper bag."

It takes me a second to remember. "Oh, Liz brought that. She said someone gave it to Nate and said it was for Birdie." I inspect the outside of the bag. "What's in it?"

"I don't know, I didn't open it."

"Is it for me?" Birdie touches my leg, peeking up.

I take the bag from Dwight and unroll the mouth. I stick my hand inside and begin to pull out what feels like a soft fabric. I stop when I see red. I shove it back inside and roll up the bag.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing." I say dismissively, before marching back to the garage. I let the door slam behind me as I stalk over to my trunk, open it up, and throw it down inside, shutting the lid.

The door opens more gently behind me. "What's in the bag?"

"Nothing." I shake my head.

"You said it was for Birdie."

I exhale, scratching my thumb, before I lean over to open the trunk. I pull of the brown paper bag and hand it to him with a feeling of shame on my face.

Dwight looks me over as he takes the bag and unfurls the opening. He looks in before he delves his hand in and pulls out the scarf, looking it over. His eyes meet mine. "This is-"

"Yeah," I hold my elbows, "It's his."

Dwight glance down at it again. "Who gave this to you?"

"I don't know," I shrug, "Lizzie said Nate got it from some guy who said Birdie's father would want her to have it." I scoff. "Probably Jed, or Justin. They always give me a hard time whenever I go to Sanctuary."

"Hal said Justin was missing."

"Then Jed," I say, frustrated, "Figures, he's more of an asshole than Justin anyway."

Dwight nods in agreement, before looking up at me. "What do you wanna do with it?"

I look at the scarf in his hand. "I don't know. I guess just put it in the trunk."

He looks at me. "We could just toss it, if it upsets you."

"No, I'm not upset," I tell him, "I mean, I am, but we don't have to toss it."

"Okay." He walks the scarf over to the trunk and puts it in there for me. "...Did you see him when you were there?"

I think about it for a moment. About lying and saying I didn't, just so he won't think this has to do with that. But he deserves the truth.

I sigh through my nose. "Yes, I did," I clear my croaky throat, "I thought he should know that Birdie was sick."

He nods his head, licking his lips.. "Yeah."

I don't know if he said that as to mean that it's only fair I told Negan, or if he just didn't know what else to say.

I smooth my finger along my thumb. "We should go inside."

"Yeah."

…

"Happy Birthday, Daddy!" Birdie hands an envelope she had me make this morning.

"Oh, what'd you get me?" Dwight opens it and pulls out the paper that's been folded one too many times.

"I drawed that for you." Birdie points to the paper.

"You did?" Dwight unfolds the paper and looks at the drawing.

"That's me!" Birdie shows him with excitement. "And you and Mommy. And the chickens and, um, our house."

"Oh, wow, it's beautiful, Bird." Dwight smiles at the drawing. "I love it."

"What's that?" I point to the grey thing in the corner.

"Um, our doggy."

"We don't have a dog, babe."

"It's pretend."

"Oh, okay."

"We should get one for real."

"We'll see." I say, knowing it's not really in the realm of possibility.

"Thank you, Bird," Dwight puts his arm around her and kisses her temple, "I love it."

"Don't put it on the fridge, okay?"

"Okay, I'll put it in my shirt pocket, how's that sound?"

"Yeah, that's good."

We cut the cake and eat it in the living room, while we watch Birdie's movie until she falls asleep. I knew it was gonna be soon after the movie started, when she turned herself my way and wanted me to wrap my arms around her. She might be a daddy's girl, but at least I get this.

I carry her to her bed around the time "A Few of My Favorite Things" starts to begin. When I go to the bedroom, Dwight's already in bed under the covers with his arms tucked behind his head.

"Did you have a good birthday?" I ask as I stroll to the bathroom, "Despite spending it routinely?"

"I did, as a matter of fact," He replies, "Thanks for the new shirts. I needed those."

"You're welcome." I traipse out of the bathroom. I go to the dresser. "Hey, I just remembered I'm gonna be thrifty this year."

"Yeah," He says, "That's not old."

"I know."

"You won't cry?"

I snicker as I undress. "No, why would I?"

"Most women cry when they turn thirty."

"That's because women are afraid to get old."

"Thirty isn't old."

"Yeah, well, some men might think so, that's why women cry." I glance at him through the mirror. "Did Sherry cry?"

His eyes find mine in the reflection. "Yeah, she did."

"Oh." I don't know why I asked. I fish around for my pajamas, but I decide to go to bed in just my underwear and a T-shirt.

"You're gonna get cold." Dwight tells me.

"I'll be fine," I inch closer to him, "I'll lay close to you."

He puts his arm around me, kissing my head.

I move my hand down his body, feeling the line of hair under his navel below his shirt.

"Nan."

I look at him. "Hm?"

His eyes travel from me to below.I move my hand to his face and kiss his cheek. He turns his head and kisses my mouth, shifting his body to deepen it. My hand travels south and slowly under his pants.

I feel his hand touch my arm as he continues to kiss me. He stops as I take him in my hand.

"What?"

"I don't think we should." He tells me.

"Oh," I say, still holding him, "Why not?"

"Um, because you're pregnant."

I knit my brows. "We can have sex still." I smile. "Honey, I was just joking when I said we had to take it easy. We'll be alright."

"Yeah, but, you're early and I just don't want anything to happen."

I read his eyes. "Oh, well, we'll just take things slow."

"I'd feel better if we didn't," Dwight says, taking my hand out of his pants, "Just to be on the safe side. Let's wait."

"You realize it'll be a little difficult to maneuver when I'm further along, right?"

He shrugs like it's no big deal.

"Okay." I chuckle a little.

"Don't be a jerk."

"I'm not," I kiss him, "I think it's cute that you're being cautious. Even if it's a tad silly."

"Not to me." He touches my face, tucking hair behind my ear.

I slide my hand down his chest. "Well, maybe I can still give you a happy birthday."

I smile at him as I move downward. He stops me just before I go below the blankets.

"Well, wait, you don't have to do that."

"I know, I want to."

"Yeah, but, I don't know that I want you to."

"Oh," I sit up and look at him, "How come?"

He makes a face. "I'd feel like an asshole."

"Why? I'm offering."

"I know, but it just seems like an asshole thing to do to let my pregnant wife give me a blowjob. Telling me you're pregnant is enough, really."

I can't help but laugh more. "You know, there's such thing as being too nice?" I crawl over him. "You can be a little handsy sometimes, I won't break."

"No, but I don't feel like getting handsy with you."

"Hm," I kiss his lips, "Well, I wouldn't mind it now and then."

"Not tonight."

I kiss once more, before moving to lay against him. A smile tips on my face as I close my eyes. He called me his wife.

…

The next morning is how it usually been going since the morning sickness rolled in. Dwight says he'll handle feeding the chickens and breakfast, even though it's my day. He ends up bathing Birdie afterwards because I can't be too far from the toilet. Maybe this is a sign it'll be a boy this time. I think they always say you get more sick with girls, but it could be the opposite for me. Birdie was a breeze for me compared to this baby. I might be nice to have a boy, though it honestly doesn't matter to me either way.

"Mommy let's me do it." Birdie's voice bounces off the tile.

"Mommy lets you do what?" I sniff, coming to the opening of her bathroom.

"Wash my hair." She says, trying to hold the shampoo bottle out of Dwight's reach.

"No, I don't," I lean my hip on the frame, "You waste shampoo."

"No, I don't!" She scrunches her nose like a brat.

"You do, too."

"How about I put some in your hand and you can rub it in your hair?" Dwight offers.

"'Kay." She puts her hand out.

"How you feeling?"

"Like hell, but I'll be fine. " I sit on the counter.

Dwight turns. "You smell smoke?"

"Smoke?" All I smell is Birdie's shampoo.

"Yeah." He stands up and leaves the bathroom.

I sit down on the stool by the tub. "Ready to rinse?"

"Yeah." She nods with a mountain of bubbles on top of her head.

I get her all dry and dressed after she's done with her bath. "D?"

"Where's Daddy?"

I hold Birdie's hand, realizing the door's open. "Dwight?"

"Out here!" He calls, standing in the road.

"Stay here, your hair's wet." I tell Birdie as I walk outside to where he is.

I suddenly smell smoke. I follow his gaze and see the plume of gray in the sky.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Hope you all enjoy! :)**


	15. Chapter 15

"You think it's from one of the communities?" She asks me, staring ahead. "Can we even see anything from this far?"

"We're not in the valleys like they are," I tell her, also looking on, "So, if it's coming from there, it might be them."

Nan looks at me. "Should we do something?"

"'What can we do?" I say, glancing her way. "I can't go back there and you shouldn't be breathing in the smoke."

She nods her head, looking back to the enormous cloud of black smoke.

"Mommy!" Birdie shouts from the inside of the house.

"Coming!" Nan calls back. She keeps her eyes out.

I make the decision to stop looking and to go back inside. "Come on."

She follows me, quiet. I hope she can't smell the cigarette smoke on me. I found two packs in one of the crates that she clearly didn't know were there, which was why I was out here.

I turn once I'm inside, so I can shut the door and that's when I see her face. "What?"

She shrugs, holding her elbows. "I know there's not much we can do, but I just feel like we should be doing something."

"Mommy, I have to pee."

"Okay," Nan says, taking Birdie's hand, "I'll take you to the bathroom."

"You have to turn 'round, okay?"

"Okay."

I pace calmly for a few seconds, waiting for Nan to come back. All that smoke has to mean that whatever happened was big. Two or three minutes later, I hear the toilet flush and the sink turn on.

Birdie comes running down the hall. "Daddy, catch me!"

I go towards her, scooping her up in my arms, lifting her up high, before bringing her down in a swoosh. She always laughs so hard when I do that. I smile at her bright, laughing face.

Nan follows after at a slower pace, still a little green in the gills.

"You want anything?"

"No, I can't keep anything down right now."

"Daddy, your hair is lellow."

I look Nan over. "Honey, there's nothing we can do. We're two hours away."

"I know," She nods, "I just I'm worried people got hurt. You know, our people."

"We don't have people."

She looks at me, not liking that answer. "That's not true."

"I got told to leave and not come back," I gently set Birdie down, "You and Birdie came with me."

"Yeah, but they've all been decent to us," She argues, "None of them has to trade with us or even let me come into their communities. The Saviors really stepped up this last time when they knew Birdie was sick."

"I know and I'm as grateful as you are, but it's not practical."

She nods, disappointed. "Okay."

"Daddy, let's play chase." Birdie touches my hand to get my attention.

I look down her. "Okay, but just for a little bit. Daddy's got work he's gotta do."

"Okay," Birdie runs out toward her bedroom, "Don't eat me!"

Nan chuckles, watching her go. She then takes a deep breath.

I rub my hands. "You, uh, you wanna play?"

She looks at me and smiles half-heartedly. "Yeah, give me a second to hide."

She walks down the hall with no sense of urgency like Birdie.

"Oh," She stops halfway, "I was thinking; it's been fairly nice out these past two days."

"Yeah."

She shrugs. "Maybe we could go to the river afterall."

I nod. "If you want."

She smiles a little more. "Maybe tomorrow. We can have that picnic we were talking about."

…

The smoke in the sky has gotten thicker. I've always liked the smell of smoke, but I'm starting to get it in my lungs. For once, I wish they'd fucking shut the goddamn window.

People have been rushing by all day since the loud _bang!_ was heard some distance out. I haven't tried to stop anyone, because I know they won't stop to answer, but I'm fuckin' curious to know what the hell happened. Maybe that kid will come by and I can get some answers.

I'm still waiting for my breakfast. I don't know the exact time and the smokes blocking the sun, so I can't even try my hand at that, but I know it's been hours past when I was supposed to get it.

I leave the window and go back to my cot to read, because there's nothing else to do between meals and looking over Birdie's drawing.

The guy in this book's a real fucking dick. He needs to lighten the fuck up; he takes shit way too seriously and I'm not even past the fourth chapter yet. I like the woman though; yeah, she's kind of a bitch to the him, but I like her anyway. She's brutal. He is, too, but like I said, he's an asshole.

…

"What time will you be back?"

"In time to make dinner."

"Or in time _for_ dinner." She pecks me on the lips. Her breath tastes minty from her just brushing her teeth a few minutes ago.

"Take it easy."

"I'll be fine; I've gotta do Birdie's laundry."

I kiss her just as I'm about to get into the truck. "Love you."

Her brows furrow softly as we make distance.

"What?"

She looks me over. "I thought I smelt smoke. Like from a cigarette."

"Must be the smoke rolling in from far out."

She arches her brow. "You weren't smoking?"

"No," I shake my head, "I haven't got any cigarettes."

Nan nods. "Okay. Be safe."

"See ya tonight." I get in the truck and start it up. "Shit."

I've gotta quit. I'm stupid to think she won't find out. She's really gonna be on me about it now that she's pregnant again.

I drive out to the barriers and kill any dead that got stuck on the spikes. I then go out to the south spot and to bring the dead this way. I chose the south spot for a reason; it's in part of my old hometown, Camden.

I wanted to look around the town, see if I could find something for Nan, maybe a ring.

Camden was a small town. One of those towns were almost everyone knew each other. I was born and raised here by my mother and my grandparents. This is where I met Sherry. I spent my whole life here until the change. It's strange to think I'm back where I started.

The town is rundown from all the years of being abandoned by the living. The dead wander in like tourists from time to time. I killed most of the ones I recognized years ago when Nan and I moved into the house. The others were burned in the fire when Sherry, Tina, and I left.

I've gone through pretty much every building and house by now. There's a jewelry shop in the middle of Harper Plaza, a shopping center by the grocery store. It's nothing fancy, nothing in Camden really was.

There's a few dead in the empty parking lot. I hit 'em with my bolts before going into the jewelry store. The shop window has been smashed open and the door is propped open with the cinder block that was probably used to break in.

The glass crunches under my foot as I cautiously walk into the store. The counters have also been shattered. There's a counter bell inside one of the broken cases. I reach down and pick it up, ringing it few times. No growling.

I toss the bell and have a look around. The store is pretty empty. I pick through the pieces of broken glass when I see pieces of jewelry. So far, all I find are earrings. Is that close enough? I look over the whole store, but come up empty handed. The earrings I did find are pearl, I think. I pocket them and leave the store.

I light a cigarette on my way out, smoking as I walk the ghost town. There has to be some other place I can go to get a ring. None come to mind. That store was where I got Sherry's ring years ago.

As I get into the car, I almost back it up to go back to the gas station where I normally sit to bring the dead in, before I'm reminded of something. I drive forward down the road. To my mom's house.

…

The door to the terrace finally fucking opens well into the day, mostly likely past when I was supposed to get served lunch.

"Did you bring me two trays?" I ask rudely. "Because you forgot to bring me breakfast and I'm supposed to get three square meals a day."

"You don't want your food, you want your food," Norah puts the tray down in a huff, "Make up your mind."

"Did you forget to set an alarm?" I add, picking up the sandwich half.

"Watch your mouth." Norah warns me.

"I didn't even fuckin' swear." I grin as she shoots me a look.

"The world doesn't revolve around you, you know," She tells me, "There's other stuff going on; I'm not on your time."

"Yeah, I can see that," I nod to the window, "What's going on?"

Norah looks at me, uneasy. "The bridge blew up."

"Shit," I can't help but smirk, "Rick must be pissed, huh? That was his pride and joy."

The way she stares makes my smile start to loosen.

"What?"

"Rick was on the bridge." Norah informs me.

I furrow my brows. "What?"

"I don't know the details," She says, "Only that he was on it and their looking for his body."

I scoff, "What's left of him?"

Norah huffs. "I have to go."

"Well, wait, come back."

"I told you I don't have any gory details," Norah opens the door, "I can't entertain you."

"I wasn't…" I exhale as she slams the door, "Entertained."

I look down at the half of sandwich, not hungry. I set it back on the plate. I look up at the window when I see Norah shutting it close, because of the smoke. She gives me a disappointed look before leaving.

I run my hand down my face with an exhale."Fuck, Rick."

I sit down on the cot, looking down at the ground. I don't know what else do, so I take out the picture Birdie drew, open it up, and look at it. I smile at the paper.

The little scribbles that are supposed to be flowers. The chickens and squirrels; I only know what they are, because Nan told me. I won't lie, it's a shitty drawing, like most kid drawings are, but I fuckin' love it. My favorite part is between the poorly drawn picture of her and her name at the bottom. I want to be where she's at in this picture.

My head turns to the window, where I can't smell smoke from anymore. The sky is dark. I sigh, hanging my head, "Shit."

I thought the picture would make me feel better, or distract me. But all it's making me do is think about how I can't rub it in Rick's face that I've changed, if he's dead.

…

"Hold still, please."

"'Kay."

I brush the blue polish onto her left big toe with precision.

"Not the other one, 'kay?"

"Why don't you want me to paint your other foot?" I ask, focusing on her row of bare toenails.

"I want Daddy to."

I raise my brow. "You want to wait for Daddy to get home, so he can paint the nails on your other foot?"

"Um, yeah." She says, while making her duck and dog blocks kiss.

"Daddy doesn't know how to paint toes."

"Yes, he can!" She giggles. "He do it all the time."

"When has he ever painted your toes?" I chuckle, capping the bottle. "There, done."

"Tanks," Birdie admires her one painted foot, "I'm hungry."

"Dinner will be ready soon."

She hops off the sofa, dropping her blocks on the floor and making a rather loud sound. "Goddammit."

"Hey!" I scold her, "Watch your mouth, missy. You know you can't say bad words."

"Sorry." Birdie says with her hand holding back her snickering. She always thinks it's funny when she swears. Even funnier when she gets in trouble for it.

I hear the sound of the truck pulling up.

I hold off a smile to be stern. "Daddy won't paint your other toes, if he finds out you've been saying bad words."

"Don't tell Daddy!" She wraps her arms around my waist. "I'm sorry, Mommy."

I smile, kissing her head, before standing up from where I sat in the coffee table. "It's okay, baby."

"Don't tell."

The front door opens.

"I'm not gonna tell."

"Not gonna tell?" Dwight takes his jacket off by the hall closet. "What's going on?"

"Daddy!" Birdie runs over to him. "You're home!"

"I'm home." Dwight picks her up. "Were you good for Mom while I was gone?"

"Yes," She tells him, "I wasn't being bad."

"You weren't?" Dwight chuckles, "Why do I suddenly doubt that?"

"I was very good today."

"Yeah, she was alright." I muss her hair. I get a look at him and knit my brows. "What happened?"

He touches a small cut on his brow. "Oh, I hit my head on a cabinet."

"A cabinet? I thought you were going to the south spot?"

"I did," He nods, "But I went to my mom's house while I was there."

"Your mom's house?"

"Yeah," He puts Birdie down, "I hit my head on one of her kitchen cabinets."

"Oh," I nod my head, "How come you went there?"

"To see what I could find."

Birdie takes his hand, lightly swinging it as she looks up to him.

"I thought you got all you could from there."

"Yeah, but I remembered where her hiding spots were."

"Hiding spots?"

"Yeah, she used to have places where she'd hide money or other valuables in the house." Dwight walks towards the bathroom in our back bedroom with Birdie still holding his hand.

I follow him, still confused. What would we want money for? I watch him prop Birdie up in the counter so she can sit while he gets out the first aid kit.

"How come she had hiding spots?" I ask.

He stares down at the rubbing alcohol he pours into some cotton. "Because every time my dad came around, she was afraid he'd steal something."

"Oh."

Dwight inhales and exhales, wincing as he holds the soaked cotton onto his cut.

"You're supposed to dab it," I walk over and take the cotton from his hand, "Here."

"Mommy, me, too."

I gently pat the cotton that reeks of alcohol onto Dwight's cut. I meet his eyes by chance. "Did you find anything?"

He shrugs. "Just a roll of cash and some trinkets."

I nod, unpacking a bandaid. "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"That you didn't find anything useful." I ease the bandaid on his cut.

He nods, looking me over.

"Mommy," Birdie points to her forehead, "Me, too, please."

"You are perfectly fine," I kiss the spot she points to, "You don't need a bandaid."

"Aw!" Birdie complains.

"Don't you have five toes that Daddy needs to paint?"

She looks down at her feet and lifts her foot up a little. "Daddy, paint my toes."

"How come she's got-"

"She wanted you to do the other half."

Dwight nods. "Let me wash up real quick and then I'll paint 'em, okay?"

"'Kay."

I help her down when it looks like she might leap and off she goes. "She said 'goddammit' just before you walked in," I look back at him, "I didn't even say it beforehand. She just said it."

"Are you suggesting I did?"

"No," I chuckle with him, exiting the bathroom, "I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just saying, she's gonna start cussing again."

"Well, yeah, she didn't get it from me."

My smile softens. "No." I turn. "Go get in the shower. Dinner will be ready in fifteen."

…

"Goddammit," I curse as I spill my entire cup of water onto the floor, "Dumb fucking idiot."

Now I'm stuck without water until Norah comes back, which might not be anytime soon. I throw the cup in anger.

I should be glad he's dead, right? Hell, there was a time when I was bent on killing that prick for fucking everything up. I had the chance, but that moment of weakness lost it for me and landed me here. He cut my fucking throat. I should definitely be laughing my ass off that the 'Great Rick Grimes' has been blown to smithereens.

I lie down on my bed and stare up. But I'm not. I actually like talking to Rick when he comes down. He's easy to piss off. He'll sit and talk, even if it's just to brag about that stupid fucking bridge he thought was gonna solve all the world's problems. Ah, fuck, I'm not gonna get to rib him for that.

I breathe. I'd be lying if I said my concerns about his death weren't partially selfish. Rick is the one who agreed to let Nan come here. He's the one who let's her visit me when she comes. If he's gone, is anyone gonna uphold that?

Michonne hasn't been back since our last chat, not even to see if Maggie splattered my brains against the cell wall. Is she gonna end that now that her boyfriend has kicked the bucket?

That's all I got to look forward to, except Rick's visits. Rick and Nan are the only two I like talking to. Norah's alright, but she can't be bothered with me for more than two minutes.

Nan and I are on a good foot now, or at least getting there. I can't have that end just like that. I need to see her. I want to see her. I've always wanted to see her, but this time I'm not gonna be an asshole to her when she comes. If she comes.

I snicker at that as my mind can't help but wander back to when we used to have sex. Before I can make a smart remark about coming in my head, I refrain. She's the mother of my child and good one at that.

I like her. Always did, even when I didn't. Sort of like Rick.

…

The day is nice. It's sunny and warm enough not to need heavy winter clothes. Before we went to bed last night, I brought up going to the river again. Dwight agreed to it and said we'd go in the afternoon when it would be warmest, if the weather held. It's unseasonable for it to be this nice, but I won't say it out loud, in case I jinx it.

I spend the morning sick for about two hours. Birdie and Dwight eat breakfast without me. Birdie keeps asking me if I'm sick and I just shake my head, too sick to answer verbally. Dwight has to keep pulling her away and telling her my stomach's just upset. He asks me if I'm sure I'm up for going to the river and I put my thumb up.

Around ten, ten-thirty, I'm okay enough to get ready to go, while Dwight packs a lunch and helps Birdie get dressed. I chuckle to myself as I hear her continuously argue about wearing the several things he's pulled out of her drawers. I finally go into her room half-dressed and pick out clothes that she agrees to wear, smirking at Dwight as I exit to finish getting dressed.

The thermometer says it's seventy-two degrees out and it feels good on my face as we load up in the truck. I'm excited to go. It's been awhile since we did this.

We stop at the barriers, so Dwight can move them. They're empty but still intimidating. The river's not far from our house, only about two miles or so. Dwight turns on the radio, an old CD, and turns it low where we can hear it without catching the attention of any dead near by.

He holds my hand when one song comes on and I smile as I look out the front window, amusing Birdie as she talks here and there.

At the river, we spread a blanket on the grass a few feet from the bank.

Birdie wants to fish, but Dwight tells her she didn't bring his fishing pole today. She doesn't pout, too distracted with being out by the river. She picks up leaves and brings them over if she finds any keepers.

We eat sandwiches, seasoned corn, Dwight's potato salad that isn't half bad, and leftover cake from his birthday. Birdie drinks a lot of lemonade and says has to go pee. I think some little girls would be mortified to go in the woods, but not Birdie.

Dwight built a small fire to keep warm, so we have to keep telling Birdie to stop getting close to the fire when she throws leaves and twigs on it.

She gives up on the fire and gathers a collection of rocks and sticks and is making castles with them since I won't let her make any out of mud.

We brought two blankets because we knew it's get chilly by the water, so I wrap the one we're not sitting on around me when I get cold.

"Birdie, not too close to the water."

"I'm not!"

"Well...keep it that way."

Dwight snickers, carving away at something he's been working on lately.

"What?"

"Nothing," He says, "Except...she really isn't that close to the river."

"She's close enough to me," I nudge his leg, "Don't laugh."

"You're being overprotective."

"That's not such a bad thing." I tuck his hair behind ear. "Especially when she's around a large body of water."

"She's fine."

"You go in after her if she falls in then."

"She's not gonna fall in, she's nowhere close."

"Whatever," I recline back on my arm, "How's your head?"

"Fine, how's your stomach?"

"Fine," I breathe, "Time could go a little faster, though, so I can get over the morning sickness and so we can't just tell Birdie why I'm throwing up every morning."

"Yeah, she's starting to get upset when she sees you like that, or you have to run back to the bathroom."

"Whatcha makin'?"

"I don't know yet."

I smile softly, keeping my eye on Birdie. "Will you make something for the baby after you're done with that?"

"Sure."

"Boy or girl?"

Dwight looks back. "Huh?"

"Do you want a boy or girl this time?"

"Oh...I don't care. Whichever."

"Hm."

"Do you?" He glances over his shoulder. "Have a preference, I mean?"

I shrug. "I think it'd be nice to have a boy. But, I'm flexible."

He chuckles. "A boy?"

"Yeah, you know, so he'll love me more than you."

"What?"

"Birdie's a daddy's girl," I explain, "I spend every waking minute with her and you're still her favorite."

"That doesn't mean she loves me more."

"Maybe not, but at least if we have a boy, I'll be his favorite, because boys loves their moms the most."

"So, you want a boy so you can be the favorite?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm also curious to see what it's like to have a boy."

"Oh…" He nods. "You think it'll hurt less?"

I laugh, shoving him playfully. "That's not what I meant!"

Dwight leans back, chuckling, and plants a kiss on my lips. "Birdie's a lot of fun."

"So, another girl?"

"Um, maybe," He puts his hand on my hip, "But like I said, it doesn't matter to me."

I roll my eyes. "Now I sound petty for wanting a boy."

"Well, that was a petty reason for wanting a boy, honey."

We both laugh. Dwight looks at me as we calm our laughter. His smile is soft.

"What?"

"Close your eyes."

"I can't, I have to watch Birdie."

Dwight looks over. "Birdie, stay where we can see you!"

"'Kay!"

She runs from the river bed. It's not as if she could fall in really, you'd have to walk a ways to get into deep water, but I wouldn't put it past her to do so. She's got what looks like a handful of rocks, which she takes back to her castles.

Dwight turns back to me. "Okay, now close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

I indulge him and close my eyes.

"Put out your hand."

I knit my brows. "My hand?"

"Yeah, put out your hand."

I hold up my hand and open my palm. I hear him rifle through his pocket. "What are you doing?"

"Hold on."

"D, Birdie-"

"Would you stop worrying," He chuckles, "I'm watching her."

I sigh through my nose. "Okay."

I feel Dwight's hand come up under mine. He drops something in the palm of my hand.

"Close your hand."

I do.

"Okay, now you can open your eyes."

I open them and look at him with a curious smile. "What is it?"

"Take a look."

I open my hand again and glance down. My smile fades. In the palm of my hand is a gold ring with little embellishments and a small green stone in the center. I stare at it, speechless.

"It was my mom's," Dwight tells me, "It was an old engagement ring she was given after her grandmother died."

"That's why you were out there?"

"Yeah, she hid it behind one of the tiles in the kitchen," He picks the ring up, "If I remember correctly, I think she said it's an emerald."

I stare at the ring in emotional awe.

"My great-grandmother was a riveter during World War II," He tells me, somewhat shy, "She got engaged to this guy who came from money, I guess, but he died in the war."

I look from the ring to him. "I...I don't know what to say. It's beautiful."

"Well, it's yours." Dwight puts his hand out for mine, which I give him.

I watch as he slides the ring on my finger. I study the ring n my finger until tears start to blur my vision.

"You like it?"

I touch his face, kissing him fervently. "Yes, I like it!" I wipe the stray tear off my cheek, laughing at how teary-eyed I'm getting. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Nan."

I sniff, looking down at the ring again. "I guess I really am your wife now."

"Yeah." He kisses my lips.

"You don't have a ring."

"It's okay, I don't need one."

"I can't believe you did this," I smooth a hand over his scars, smirking a little, "Especially after you said we have to wait to-"

"Sh!" He snickers, kissing me again. "Birdie's right-" He looks over. "Birdie!"

"Over here!"

Dwight and I spot her.

"Come back here!" He calls. "Now!"

"Mommy!" Birdie comes running up on the blanket. "Daddy!"

"Whoa, careful!" I chuckle as she nearly trips. "Hey, we told you not to wander." I tickle her. "Do we gotta put a leash on you?"

She cackles, falling against me. "Mommy, can Judi's dad come to our house?"

"Judi's dad?" I chuckle, "Rick?"

"Yeah," She tugs on my hand, "Come on!"

I get up, humored, thinking she has to pee again. "Hold your horses!"

Birdie takes me toward where she peed earlier. "Follow me, Mom."

"Alright, alright, I'm coming." I let her lead me. "You need to lay off the lemonade, kid."

"Look!" Birdie points, smiling up at me.

"What? What is…" I stare ahead, down a ways on the banks of the river. The body on the bank lays lifeless.

"That's Judi's dad!" Birdie shouts.

I continue to stare, stunned. My breath catches. "Dwight!"

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **I know these past few chapters have been sort of uneventful and blah. I've had some emotionally difficult situations these past few months and so, I've had a real struggle with brain fog. I plan on posting Out of the Ash next week, but in the following weeks, if I miss a week for either story, I'm just giving myself a breather.**

 **Thanks again for the support.**

 **Now that that's said, what's the census on what Nan and Dwight should have? I always imagined they'd have a boy, just as a "refresher" but I'm starting to like the idea of another girl.**


	16. Chapter 16

"Lay him down on the blanket." Dwight huffs breathily.

"Yeah." I pant out.

Dwight and I carry the body to our picnic spot. Dwight's got him from under the arms, while I have his feet.

"Birdie," I breathe, looking around, "Baby, stay close, okay? Don't let go of my shirt."

"Okay, Mommy." Birdie murmurs, quietly as she holds the tail of my flannel. "Mommy, what's wrong with Judi's daddy?"

We gently lay him down on the picnic blanket. We stare down at the pale body as we catch our breaths from hauling him up from the riverbed. His mouth is agape and his eyes weakly flit beneath his closed eyelids. His tan shirt is stained with blood that's washed out with water, but there's one spot that still remains red.

Dwight and I look at each other before we both move down towards Rick who's clearly still alive.

I put my ear to his chest.

"Can you hear anything?"

"...Yes, but it's faint," I touch his shirt, prying it open, regardless of the buttons, "He might have water in his lungs."

"Shit." Dwight curses when he spots the wound where the blood had been coming from under his shirt.

I lace my hands on top of his chest, above his heart and start CPR. "How bad?"

"I don't know," Dwight shrugs, "But I think it's all the way through."

I pinch his nose close and bring my mouth to his. I breathe in, but immediately spit to the side, tasting blood. I try again to pump his chest. Despite the blood in his mouth, I don't think I have a choice but to breathe into his lungs again, so I do.

Dwight runs to the truck and brings back our first aid. Birdie stands on the opposite side with big eyes and buttoned lips, quiet.

After a few more tries of breathing into him and pumping his chest, Rick finally coughs up water. He weakly gasps for air and his eyes move madly around, until his eyelids grow heavy.

"AH!" He yells out in pain as Dwight pours antiseptic solution on the open wound.

Dwight rips a flannel shirt he must have gotten from the flatbed into shreds. "Help me get him up."

I nod, moving so I can lift and hold Rick's body up. His dead weight makes my limbs burn in the process.

Dwight pulls the shirt Ricks wearing off him and then pours the solution on the backside of the wound.

Rick makes the same noise of pain but is too weak to struggle. I shush him calmly as his head hangs back onme. I look over at Birdie, realizing it seemed as though I were comforting her instead of a grown man.

Her eyes remain like saucers, now glossy.

"It's okay," I croak, "It'll be alright."

Dwight ties the torn shirt tight around the wound, which makes Rick grunt. He licks his lips as he breathes at the finished work. His eyes meet mine as I shush softly.

"We need to load him up in the back."

I nod quietly and gently slip out from under him. "Lift him up using the blanket?"

"Yeah."

"Daddy." Birdie rasps behind us.

"It's okay, baby." Dwight says, going to the end I'm standing by. "Go to the car and wait by the door."

"I don't know if I can lift him into the flat bed," I tell him, "You'll have to take the front."

He nods his head. "Yeah."

I go to the end and Dwight and I move in sync as we crouch down, grabbing both sides of the blanket.

"On three," Dwight commands, "One, two, three!"

On three, we both groan as we pick Rick up in the blanket and move as fast as we can to the truck with him.

"Birdie?" I call with burning lungs. "Come on, baby. Follow us."

I watch alongside the corner of my eye to make sure she's following.

"Okay, here we go." Dwight pants. "One, two, three!"

We lift higher and manage to get him into the truck. Dwight climbs in to drag the blanket and the body all the way in.

I pick Birdie up and carry her to her car seat.

"Mommy, what happened?" Birdie mumbles. "He has a boo-boo."

"I know," I kiss her temple, buckling her in, "But it's okay."

"He's going to the doctor?"

I look at her, still trying to catch my breath. I pass my hand along her cheek before I close the door. "D?"

Dwight hops out of the back.

"He needs a doctor."

"Yeah," Dwight agrees, "We need to get him to town."

"I'll take him," I say, "You can't go; we'll drive up to the house and you and Birdie can stay home while I get him help."

"No, I'm gonna go with you."

"D, you-"

"Look, we can't waste time," He argues, "He's lost a lot of blood. He might not make it, if we don't get him there soon."

"I know, but you know you can't go back there," I sternly argue back, "I can drive Rick to Alexandria alone, I can do that. What I can't do is raise two kids by myself."

Dwight looks me over.

"Or at least I don't want to, if I don't have to." I add, looking into the flatbed. "I'll stay back with him until we get to the house. Make sure he can go the journey."

Dwight licks his lips, slowly nodding. He exhales. "Okay."

I glance at Rick. "I wonder what happened."

"I don't know," He says, "But it must've had something to do with that smoke we saw."

I climb in and Dwight shuts the hatch and the window to the camper shell down. I hear Birdie ask him where I'm at as he gets in and starts the car. As we pull away, I look back at the river where pieces of our picnic still lay.

I turn my head towards Rick when he groans. The ride back to the house can be pretty bumpy but the road to town will be paved and a little easier.

What the hell happened? How did he end up like this?

Dwight stops the truck to get out and move the barricades, so we get up to the house. It takes us no time to get there once we pass through. He drives the truck to the front into the road. I get ready to move towards the back, so he can let me out when he comes to a stop.

I furrow my brows when he drives further down the road, past the house. I open the small window of the camper shell.

"Dwight, what are you doing?" I ask him. "You just passed the house; you need to stop."

"He needs a doctor," Dwight call back, eye in the rear view mirror, "We have to get him to Alexandria. There's no time to stop."

"D, you can't go back."

"Don't worry about me," He says, "Just keep an eye on him. Make sure the bleeding stops."

"Dwight-"

"Mommy, come sit up here."

I glance at Birdie in her car seat. "I…" I sigh, "I can't, honey. I've got to watch Judith's dad."

"You watching him sleep?"

"Yeah…" My eyes move down to him in the flatbed with me. "I'm watching him sleep."

…

 _The sun beats down on the back of my neck. The tomato vines and the dirt are fragrant enough to keep me going, despite the heat. That, and I promised to make sauce for spaghetti tonight._

 _I clip a round red tomato from the vine and put it in the basket. They're doing good this season._

" _Daddy!"_

 _A smile inches up on my face as I cut another tomato off._

" _Daddy!"_

 _I turn my head as she runs up, stopping right where I'm kneeling._

 _She looks at me. "Good morning, Daddy."_

 _I grin. "Well, good morning to you, darlin'."_

 _She smiles._

 _Her mother catches up. "There you are," She says to her, "I told you not to run so fast." Her hand smoothes over the shape of her round belly. "We can't keep up."_

" _I was looking for Daddy."_

" _Looks like you found him."_

 _I stand up, still grinning. "I was just finishing up."_

 _She peers into the basket at my feet. "That'll make a lot of sauce."_

" _Hope you like spaghetti," I reach over to kiss her, "Because we're gonna be having a shit ton of it for the next couple weeks."_

" _Language." She arches brows._

" _Sorry."_

" _It's bad enough you've got her saying 'em," She touches her pregnant belly again, "Let's not teach this one before they're even born."_

" _No promises." I give her a kiss on the lips._

 _Our little girl touches my arm. "Daddy, you said we could play ball today."_

" _You are absolutely right," I smile down at her, "I did say that. Thanks for reminding me."_

" _Can we play right now?"_

" _I don't know." I take her baseball hat off her head and put it back on the other way. "Did you finish all your chores?"_

" _Yes."_

" _You made your bed?"_

" _Yes."_

" _And picked up your room?"_

" _Yes."_

 _I nod. "You tell your mother she's awesome?"_

" _And beautiful."_

 _I chuckle. "Alright, go get your glove."_

 _She smiles and runs towards the house._

" _Take it easy on her."_

" _She likes the fast ones," I smirk, "Besides, it'll tire her out."_

 _She scoffs, walking towards the house. "I'm tired. And will be tired for the rest of the day...and night."_

 _I laugh, touching her back as I follow her. "I figured, hence why I'm gonna tire her out for you; so you can relax tonight. Take a hot bath, maybe read a book with a nice cup of tea."_

" _You just want to see me rub lotion all over my wet, naked body."_

" _You look good when you've just come out of the bath." I kiss her temple. Her hair smells like honeysuckle. " And who wouldn't want to see you rub lotion over your soft, glistening-"_

" _Stop," She rolls her eyes, hiding a smile, "She'll hear you."_

" _Hear me tell you how much I love you."_

 _She rolls her eyes again. "You gonna massage my swollen feet?"_

" _If that's what you want."_

" _Okay!" Our daughter runs out of the house, holding up a baseball glove to big for her hand. "I got yours, too."_

" _Thanks, baby."_

" _Mom, are you gonna watch?"_

" _Mom's tired, Bird, we're gonna let her kick back."_

" _I can kick back and watch at the same time."_

" _Suit yourself." I peck her lips._

" _Mm," She breaks the kiss and glances down, "The baby's kicking."_

" _Yeah?" I look down._

" _Yeah," She takes my hand and places it on her bump, "Do you feel it?"_

 _I smile wide. "Yeah, I feel it." My eyes move to hers which sparkle._

 _She blushes. "What?"_

" _I love you, Nan." I plant a kiss on her forehead._

 _Her hands touch both my arms as she holds me close. "I love you, too, Negan."_

" _Dad, come on!"_

I open my eyes to the bleak ceiling.

 **...**

I lurch forward, emptying my stomach all over the side of the road. Turns out sitting in the back of a flatbed truck is a miserable time. I endured the nausea for as long as I could until I couldn't take it anymore and called for Dwight to pull over. It gave him a chance to let Birdie go to the bathroom and check on Rick's wound.

The sky is gray and the air is laced with smoke, which is only making things worse for me.

"Watch your fingers." Dwight tells Birdie as he buckles her back in.

"I'm holding it."

"I know, but I can't get the buckles in with your fingers too close to the middle," He replies, "You gotta move your fingers."

"I'm helping, Daddy."

"You okay?" He asks, suddenly by my side.

I spit on the ground, before nodding and wiping my leaky nose. "Yeah."

"You need a little more time?"

"We don't have time," I sniff, "We have to get him to Alexandria."

"Okay, well, how about you drive and I'll sit in the back?"

"I'm fine," I walk towards the car, "We're almost there."

"It's making you carsick."

"I said I'm fine, Dwight," I push myself up onto the hatch, "Close the door, please."

"Alright." He sighs.

He closes up the trunk and walks around to the front.

"Mommy!"

I open the small window. "I'm still back here."

"Come sit here."

"I can't, Judith's dad still needs me to make sure he's okay."

"I'm hungry," She complains, "And thirsty."

"D, could you get her something?"

Yeah…." He's quiet for a minute, "Is there anything back there?"

I glance around. "No."

"Well, I don't have anything up here," He calls back, turning the truck on, "Where's the stuff we packed?

"Back at the river."

"Why didn't you grab it?"

"Dwight!"

"You're right, I'm sorry," He drives, "Hang tight, Bird, we'll get you something to eat once we get there."

"But I'm hungry!" She whines. "I don't want to be in the car no more!"

"We're almost there, Birdie."

I see her lift her arm to rub her eye, so I assume she's both tired and about to cry from the long car ride.

"It's okay, Birdie," I tell her, "We'll be there soon, okay?"

"I don't wanna be my seat!"

"You won't have to for very long, just hang in there."

I start to sing "You are my sunshine" because it'll stop her crying.

" _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine._

 _You make me happy when skies are gray,"_

I look down at Rick. His eyes flutter open and then close again.

" _You'll never know dear, how much I love you,_

 _Please don't take my sunshine away."_

I hum the song again. Murmuring a few words in and out.

The gray sky grows darker after awhile. "Shit."

"What?" I ask.

"We've gotta take the back road," Dwight tells me, "The smoke's too thick this way."

We finally reach Alexandria thirty or so minutes later, which was added on because we took the back road. Birdie had fallen asleep, but woke up again when Dwight honks the horn as we pull up to the gates.

Anxiety weighs on me as the gates start to drag open. Dwight drives through and it's hard to tell who might be out there from back here.

"Where's the hospital?"

"Up this road." I tell, glancing out at all the people who seem even more confused seeing Dwight drive through here than they did me when Birdie was sick. "First house on the left."

Dwight stops the truck abruptly in front of Siddiq's house. Siddiq comes out onto the porch, along with Rosita.

"Dwight?"

Dwight gets out of the car. "In the back!" He shouts, coming around to the flatbed. "It's Rick!"

The two move off the porch and meet him by the back as he opens up.

"Oh my god!"

Dwight starts to pull the blanket toward them. "We found him on the river bed. He's got an open wound. Looks like he got impaled or something."

"Help me get him in." Siddiq grabs part of the blanket to bring him in.

Dwight nods, looking over at me. He lends me his hand. "Here."

"It's okay, just get him inside." I tell him as I start to climb out. "I'll get Birdie."

I get out of the car and as soon as I do, I heave forward unexpectedly. Guess I wasn't quite over the carsickness.

"Mommy!"

"I'm coming." I go to the car and open the door to get her out.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's in helping the doctor and Rosita with Judith's dad."

She wraps her arms around me as I unbuckle her. "I'm hungry, Mommy."

"I know, we'll eat soon."

"I want some water."

"Okay, I'll get you some water."

I carry her into the house passing the hospital where I hear Siddiq giving orders, and find the kitchen to get some water for Birdie.

"Better?" I ask her as she drinks from a glass on top of the counter.

She nods her head, gulping down the water. "I wanna snack, please."

I spy a bowl of apples by the sink. I'm sure he wouldn't mind.

"How about an apple?"

"Okay."

I take one of the apples and bite into it, handing it to her.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." I smile, turning my head at the sound of the front door opening.

"Oh my-" I hear Michonne's voice. "Rick!"

"Daddy!" Judith cries out.

"Mommy."

I look back to Birdie chewing her apple. "Yeah, babe?"

She puts her hand to my forehead. "Are you sick?"

I snicker. "No, I'm not sick."

"You throwed up."

"I know, I just got carsick is all."

"You need to take medicine."

I kiss her forehead. "I'll be okay, baby."

"I not a baby no more, Mommy."

"No, you're not a baby," I touch my forehead to hers, "You're a big girl, huh?"

"Yeah," She holds the apple up to my lips, "Eat, so you feel better."

I chuckle, taking a small bite. "Thank you."

She giggles. "Eat some more."

"You eat the apple," I say, "You're hungry."

"I'm sharing." She offers me the apple.

"Hey."

We both look over to Dwight entering the kitchen. He's got blood on his shirt.

"What's going on?"

"Uh, they're gonna attach him to an I.V. and fix up the wound," He reports, "I kind of felt in the way, so I came to find you."

I nod my head, listening to the urgent talking coming from the other room. "We should go before it gets too late."

"I think we need to rest for a few minutes," He says, "It was a long drive. Birdie's not gonna want to get back in the car so soon."

"She's fine," I turn my head back to her, "She just needed some water and food, right, Bird? You're ready to go."

"No, I don't like my car seat, Mommy."

"I know, but we have to go home."

"I don't wanna sit there."

"You have to; it'll keep you safe."

"No, Mommy!" She whines.

"Look, we need more gas to make it home anyway," Dwight chimes in, "Let's call Hal on the radio, see if we can borrow some from Sanctuary. That'll give us enough time to get ready before we have to leave."

I stare at him, trying to will him to see why he can't. "Dwight, Daryl could come in at any time. We need to get you out of here." My eyes glance towards the movement behind in the hall. "It's not safe for you here."

"Okay, but we need gas in order to make it home."

"We'll siphon it from cars."

"They've probably hit all the cars around here by now," He comes towards us, "We need to ask Hal, or somebody, for gas, Nan."

"Let's ask someone here," I suggest, "That way it'll be fast."

He exhales. "Fine, I'll...ask someone."

"I'll do it," I insist, "You stay with Birdie."

"Nan," He gives me a look, "Come on, I can do it."

"Stay here with Birdie." I repeat, adamant.

Before he has time to argue back, I walk out of the kitchen. I take a glimpse into the hospital room, able to see only his feet on a hospital bed. As I walk onto the porch, I suddenly feel lost.

I'll admit, I don't really know who to ask for gasoline. Anytime we've ever needed more, Dwight's either found some to siphon from cars close by, or we've got it from the Sanctuary. There's something inexplicably less awkward about asking for gas from them, rather than Alexandria.

I go to the truck and fish out the radio in the glove compartment and turn it on. "Hal, do you copy? It's Nan."

I check behind me when I hear the door close. Dwight carries Birdie down the steps towards me and the truck.

"Hal, do you copy?"

The radio statics. "Go for Hal."

"Hey, can you come to Alexandria? We need gas."

"Sorry, love, but I can't," He replies, "The Sanctuary's going through some shit right now."

I knit my brows, looking at Dwight. "What's going on?"

"The bridge blew up yesterday," Hal informs me, "Fights at the camp broke out days prior...Look, I've got to go. If you need gas, you'll have to come here to get it. Otherwise, you'll have to borrow from Alexandria."

I nod, even though he can't see. "How'd the bridge blow up?"

"Rick." He answers. Dwight and I look at each other. What? "He was stopping a hoard from crossing….he was on it when it blew."

"He's here," I tell him, "Dwight and I brought him back, that's why we're here."

"He's alive?"

"Yes, barely," I suddenly notice the people starting to head up towards the house, "We found him in the river by our house."

"...I'll be by with gas in an hour."

"Okay, thank you." I put the radio back in the car. "He said he'd be here in an hour."

"Yeah…" Dwight nods, "I'll clean out the back, if you want to take her."

"I told you to stay inside."

He snickers. "Here."

"What's going on?" We turn and see Aaron walking up. "I heard Rick's inside."

"Uh, yeah," I retort, "We...found him in the river."

He nods, looking towards the hospital.

"Can Gracie play?" Birdie asks Aaron.

He turns to her and smiles. "Sure, she's at the house with the sitter."

"We'll keep an eye on her, if you'd like," I tell him, "We're waiting for Hal to bring us gas."

"Thank you." He nods, before going into the house.

I glance at Dwight. "Come on."

"Mommy, I wanna walk."

I set Birdie down and let her walk as we head to Aaron's house.

"This place has changed a lot."

"Yeah, they rebuilt it after Negan blew it up."

Birdie takes hold of Dwight's hand. "It's...amazing."

"Yeah…" I look at him, "You should see the Sanctuary."

"Is it as good as this?"

"Mm, maybe not, but it's a lot different than what it used to be like."

Dwight nods. I steal a glance towards the courtyard terrace as we walk past it.

"Daddy, my friends live here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I look off from the open window. We knock on the door to Aaron's house four houses down. Norah comes to the door.

"Oh, hello, there."

"Hi," I politely smile, "We're waiting for gas and Aaron said we could sit here for awhile until Hal gets here."

"Oh, of course," Norah lets us in, looking over Dwight skeptically, "Grace! Birdie's here!"

"He said you could leave, if you'd like."

Norah nods. "I do have to...start supper."

I nod my head. "Go ahead. We can watch Grace."

"Thank you," She gets her coat and scarf from the coat rack, "I'm making chili and cornbread tonight and I've gotta make a double batch, because someone thinks I make chili too hot or not hot enough."

I offer a smile, unsure if she's actually talking to anyone or to herself, though I have an idea who she's talking about.

She leaves and the sound of Grace's feet running down the hall make me turn to the hall.

"Birdie!" Her smile beams.

"Hi!" Birdie meets her halfway. "We came to play!" She points up to Dwight. "This is my daddy."

"Hi," Grace waves, taking Birdie's hand, "Come play in my room."

The two girls run around us and up the stairs.

"Careful!" I call, watching them go up.

"She's cute," Dwight notes, "I think her mom had blonde hair, too."

I look at him. "Did you know her?"

"I knew Ellis," He meets my gaze, "I think her mom's name was Sarah, or something, but that's pretty much it."

I nod my head. "Let's...go find somewhere to wait."

We find the kitchen and sit together on a cushioned bench by the breakfast nook. I lean my head on his shoulder.

"Tired?"

"No." I close my eyes, listening to the laughter upstairs.

"Rest your eyes for awhile," He says, "I'll keep watch."

"I'm not gonna go asleep," I adjust my head more comfortably on his shoulder, "I'm just closing my eyes."

"Sounds good." He leans back against the bench, bringing me with him.

"You think he'll be okay?"

"I don't know," Dwight says honestly, "He survived getting pulled down river with a wound like that, plus the journey back here, so maybe there's a good shot."

I nod, breathing through my nose. "Think we did enough?"

"We drove him here," He puts his arm around me, "If we hadn't found him and brought him to the doctor, there's no way he'd have made it. That's all we could do."

"Yeah."

…

My stomach growls. It's probably close to dinnertime. I've been staring at the ceiling for awhile now, thinking about that dream I had.

That was the mildest dream I've had in a while. It was actually refreshing from the shitty nightmares I've woken up from in a cold sweat for the past few months. It was nice...but what the fucking fuck was that? Why the fuck would I dream something like that?

I mean, sure, there's nothing I want more than to get out of here and start a life with my daughter, but Nan? I only wanted to be with her before, because she was pregnant, not because I loved her. I might have done the same if it had been one of my other wives...Did that sound believable?

I never loved Nan. I liked her, but that was because she was good in bed and actually talked to me. The others just sort of let me do my thing and then left. Nan was a good bedfellow, but I wasn't sweet on her.

Or was I? I don't fucking know. I was admittedly nicer to her than the other wives. Had a fuck ton more paitience and put up with shit I wouldn't have let slide with the others. Then again, she was pregnant...it might have been me being a decent, yet self-motivated asshole.

I get up to take a leak in my bedpan.

Call me what you want, but I did wake up with wood from that dream. Like I've said before, seeing her all round with my child does it for me. Maybe _she_ just does it for me.

I'll admit I do like her more than I like most people these days. I don't even know why besides the fact we have a kid together. It's not like we have a ton in common. We're both cheaters and liars. That's pretty much it.

Nan's practically the polar opposite to me. She's mild and soft. How the hell she made it on her own for all those months before Simon found her is goddamn baffling. She's the sort of person that needs saving, not the kind that saves. A damsely little wallflower with a nice ass and a good lookin' face. Other than that, she's bland like oatmeal.

Lucille was a grand slam with double bacon and a side of toast. Orange juice on one side and hot black coffee on the other.

My stomach growls as I go back to my cot. Guess I shouldn't use food analogies when dinner's not here yet.

My point is, aside from Nan's looks, there's nothing that appeals to me enough to want that dream to be a reality with her. I had a life like that before, almost like that, but it was the best thing I ever had. Lucille was the best damn person I ever shared my life with.

Sure, I said what I said back at the Sanctuary but let's be honest, it would have been exactly how it was before I wound up here. Nan would have been just another wife who stuck around to be with our daughter because it was the only way and I would have been the same asshole I was then, no difference. She'd be unhappy and I'd never have to get close to anyone. I'd go on cracking jokes into her silence.

I scoff to myself, picking up that book I've been reading. I'm starting to realize I have more in common with the asshole than I thought and it's fucking pissing me off. I'm hoping he gets shot in a duel or poisoned or however the fuck people in cravats and corsets do each other in, so I won't have to fucking read about him anymore.

Nan wouldn't want to live with me anymore than I would her. Obviously, she chose to be with that oatmeal of a fuck, Dwight. She'd never say she loved me. I'd probably never say it. I _would_ never say it.

Norah needs to hurry the hell up with dinner. It's chili night. Hopefully she doesn't fuck it up. I'll probably complain even it's perfect, just to fuck with her.

…

I wake up to the sound of a motorcycle engine. I don't realize that at first. I woke up because of the noise and found myself laying on the bench without Dwight. I must have been more tired than I thought.

I hear the girls laughing somewhere downstairs. It's when I hear the second roar of the motorcycle that I get up.

I go to the front, where I find Birdie and Grace by the window. Grace looks over at me.

"Can I go see my Uncle Daryl, please?"

I meet her eyes, before mine flick back to the window.

"Birdie, where's Daddy?"

"Outside." She points.

I go to the front door and open it. "Dwight?"

I scan the street for him. Fuck, where is he?

"Dwight!"

"What?"

I knit my brows and turn. "What are you doing?"

"I was going to the bathroom." He dries his hands on a hand towel.

"Birdie said you were outside."

"I was but just for a second."

"Why?"

He looks off to the side. "I was looking at the smoke. It's getting heavy this way. I was gonna close all the windows, so the kids don't breathe it in."

I look him over. "Okay."

"What's wrong?"

"I think Daryl's here."

Dwight looks out. "Oh."

"He must have come to see Rick," I put my hand on his chest, "You need to stay inside."

"Hal probably rode out here with him. He brought the gas for the truck."

"I'll go meet him. You stay with the girls."

He takes my hand. "Nan, I'm not afraid of Daryl."

"He took you out to the middle of the woods to kill you," I scoff, "Did you forget that?"

"No, you didn't let me hear the end of it for a week."

"Dwight. Get in the damn house."

"Nan."

I look over my shoulder. It's Hal. He did come with Daryl.

He looks past me to Dwight, surprised. "I wasn't sure I heard you right when you said Dwight was here."

"Does Daryl know?"

"Yeah, he heard over the radio."

"Fuck," I curse myself, "That was my fault."

"Laura talked to him," Hal says, "I don't know what she said, but she rode with me."

I nod, turning back to Dwight. "Please, stay here."

"Nan, I'm fine."

"No, stop arguing and listen to me," I nearly shout, pointing my finger at him, "You are going to stay in this goddamn house, Dwight Rollins, and you are going to wait for me to come get you after he leaves before you even think about coming out, do you understand me?"

He stares down at me, either thinking of what to retort back or stunned at my tone and demand. Both girls come to the door. I put my hand out for Birdie's.

"Come on girls." I say to them, still staring at Dwight.

"Where we going?" Birdie asks, taking my hand.

"To go put gas in the truck."

"Will Uncle Daryl be there?" Grace inquires, taking my other hand.

I share a look with Hal. "Yeah, honey, I'll take you to him."

"Okay."

I glance over my shoulder to see the door to Aaron's house closed and Dwight out of sight.

I clear my throat as we walk towards the hospital.

Hal makes a _wa-pish!_ whipping sound out. "I always thought D called the shots."

I furrow my brows towards Hal. "What?"

He shrugs, chuckling. "Didn't peg you for a battle axe, Gorgeous."

I roll my eyes. "We're a partnership."

"Didn't seem like a mutual decision to me."

"Yeah, well, sometimes he puts his foot down and sometimes I do; partners don't always agree."

"Who puts their foot down more?"

I arch my brow at him. "Who calls the shots in your relationship?"

"That's what I thought." He laughs and I hide a smile.

"You're a jerk."

"Hey, Hal's not a jerk." Birdie argues.

"He is to me."

My humor starts to go as we pass the terrace and get closer to the hospital.

"So, what happened?"

"What I told you earlier," Hal says, "A fight broke out between Saviors and everyone else, then everyone walked off the site."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah, Rick chopped it up to be people just needing a break. Thought they'd all come back."

"Then the bridge blew up?"

"Yesterday. The fight was two days ago. Not sure what happened exactly but redirect went wrong and a hoard was heading straight for the bridge and everything on the other side. Rick blew it up to stop 'em from crossing and they lost him in the river."

"Wow."

"Yeah, lucky bloke to wash up near you and D."

"Yeah, I'll say," I agree, "We were having a picnic by the river. If we hadn't gone down there, we might have never found him."

We reach the hospital and Hal's truck is parked next to mine in the road.

"Is Uncle Daryl inside?"

"I think so, but I think we better wait outside, Gracie."

"Okay."

"Mommy, I wanna pick the leaves."

"Okay, go pick the leaves, but stay close."

She and Grace begin gathering leaves off the ground.

"Pop the lid," Hal tells me, "I'll fill her up."

"Thanks," I open the door to the truck, "I appreciate it. Especially after you said you couldn't."

"Yeah, well, you finding Rick Grimes was a miracle worth putting the inevitable on hold for."

"What inevitable?"

He glances over as he carries a can of gas to the truck. "The Sanctuary's inevitable ruin."

"What do you mean?"

Hal tips the nozzle of the can into my trucks gas valve. "Crops won't grow, the factory's becoming unlivable, space is tight, people are getting tense, especially with the bridge fiasco," He shrugs, "There's been talks of people deserting the place. Maybe disperse and take up with whomever will have 'em."

"Really?" I keep an eye on the kids.

"Yeah, Laura's sort of devastated. She really put a lot of work and faith into making the Sanctuary into a good place."

"Yeah, I know," I look to the house, "Are you and her gonna leave?"

"If people desert the place, we won't have a choice. Can't stay there by ourselves."

"Maybe others will stay."

"Doubt it; the place is just no good to live in, mate. It's full of bad memories, bad blood, and rust. The earth's hard and infertile."

"Yeah…"

"We'll probably come here if we can. Laura's in good with Daryl and she likes it here."

I nod my head. "That would be good."

"Yeah."

"What about Nate and his group?"

"Don't know," Hal screws the gas cap back on, "I'm sure they'll find their fit somewhere."

"Yeah...it's a shame it couldn't work. I really wanted it to."

"We all did."

My eyes move to the hospital. "Did you go in?"

Hal looks over his shoulder. "Briefly."

"And?"

"Siddiq said he lost a lot of blood, but his wound went straight through, missing vital organs," Hal reports, "He patched him up as best he could, so as long as it doesn't get infected or he doesn't die of pneumonia, he should make a full recovery."

"Good."

"You're a hero, you know."

"Oh," I shake my head as I fix a button on my shirt, "I am not."

"Sure you are," Hal nudges me, "You and Dwight both."

"All we did was drive him here," I humbly deny, "That's it."

"That's all it takes."

I touch my fingers. "I should pull the truck around to Aaron's house. We should get going if we want to make it back before dark."

"Don't you want to-"

"I'm glad he'll be fine, but I just want to go home," I smile, "Dwight needs to get home."

"Come back to The Sanctuary," Hal suggests, "You can stay the night."

"Yeah," I chuckle skeptically, "I don't think so."

"Everyone's fixing to split, Nan; no one cares about Daryl's rules anymore."

"There's no need," I shrug, "We don't live that far."

"Far enough."

"Stop it, we're fine."

"Suit yourself," He sighs, "I just wanted to have you around a little while longer, but whatever."

"You miss me?"

"I miss not talking to you everyday."

I smile, putting my arm around his shoulder. "Come up more."

"Come down more."

I chuckle. "Fifty-fifty."

"Deal."

"Wanna get Birdie while I drive to Aaron's?"

"Sure."

As I start to walk, the front door opens. I glance over and quiet dread hits against my chest. Daryl and I meet each other's gaze.I have half a desire to bolt to Aaron's house, but I don't. It's always hard to tell what he's thinking, but I know I must seem apprehensive.

I turn my head forward and, despite the initial plan of driving to the house, I start to walk. I don't know if it's because of nervousness or what, but I abandon the plan and head to Dwight on foot. From the corner of my eye, I see him move and because of it I peer his way very briefly.

"Nan, the truck." Hal says, but I don't speak.

I tread down the road, past the terrace without looking that way. I don't have to look behind me to know he's following me. My walk is normal paced, casual.

My eyes fix on the house. What am I doing? This feels like a horror film, where there's clearly someone following behind their victim, except I feel guilty because I'm leading him right to the victim, instead of being the victim. I'm taking him right to Dwight.

My fear suddenly turns into anger. He has some nerve. Dwight brought his friend all the way back here, which may have saved his life, and he still has the balls to want to kill him for breaking some petty little trespassing rule no one else cares about? I guess everything I said last time was just pissed on.

When I'm one house away, I stop abruptly and turn around. "Stop!"

Daryl stops just a few feet from me.

I feel my heart beating in my chest. "What is your problem?" I shout. "Dwight saved Rick's life! He risked everything to bring him here and you still are going to kill him?"

The door to Aaron's opens and Dwight stands on the front steps.

I look back to Daryl, whose eyes are focused past me. "I'm not gonna let you." His eyes move back to me. "I can't. I need him. I…" I breathe out, "I love him and I am not going to stand by why you do this to him and to yourself, so if you feel like you have to do this, then you'll have to go through me."

"Nan."

I don't take my eyes off Daryl's.

"Nan." Dwight touches my arm.

I fight back tears, shrugging him off. "No."

"It's okay, honey."

"No," I shake my head, "Go back inside."

"Anna," He gently but firmly tries to get me to let up, "Come on, it's okay."

"No, it's not."

"Thought I told you not come back." Daryl gruffs.

"Yeah," Dwight replies, "Well, I figured this was a good reason to break that."

Daryl shifts his jaw, looking Dwight over.

"Daddy!" Birdie comes running up the road with Hal, Grace, Aaron, and Laura behind. "Daddy, I picked you a leaf!"

She runs past Daryl and holds up a red fallen leaf up to Dwight.

"Thank you." He smiles at her, accepting the leaf and subtly refusing to pick her up.

"Up, please!"

"Daryl!" Aaron calls.

"We're leaving," I tell him, "He won't be back; he needed to drive while I stayed in the back with Rick. That's the only reason he's here now."

Daryl stares.

"Daryl," Aaron comes up, "They saved Rick's life."

He looks Dwight over again and then me, holding my gaze. I'm scared, but I'm not backing down. He sees that. He curtly nods.

I scan his face, half-relieved, half-unsure if I should be. I look at Dwight, notioning for us to leave.

Dwight picks up Birdie.

"Here, Dirl." Birdie gives Daryl a leaf from her handful.

Daryl takes the leaf.

We walk around him and towards Hal and Laura. I pause just as I'm about to pass him. I bite my tongue and put my hand on his arm, getting his attention. I almost thank him, but I can't. We just look at each other.

He stares at the leaf between his fingers. He nods.

I continue to walk with my family. Birdie hands me a leaf.

"Here, Mommy."

"Aw, thanks," I sniff it, "You're so nice."

Birdie puts a leaf to her nose, after seeing me doing so. "Yeah."

"There's that modesty." Dwight snickers.

I snicker, too, before I remember he didn't listen to me. "I told you to stay inside!" I swat his arm.

"I heard you shout," He says, "I wasn't gonna let anything bad happen to you."

"I wasn't the one in danger," I look at him, "And don't call me Anna when you're trying to be stern. You know that drives me crazy."

He chuckles. "Yeah, sorry."

We get to the truck. "You're really gonna go home?"

"Yes," I answer Laura, "It's still early."

"You could stay the night," She suggests like Hal had, "Your old room is open."

"Really?" Dwight says, confused. "No one took it up?"

"No, I kept it off limits in case Nan ever needed to stay."

I look at Hal, surprised by that. I never knew.

"It's been a long day," Laura adds, "Stay. You've earned it after what you did."

"It was nothing," Dwight sets Birdie down, "It's just what you do."

"Stop being humble," She claps a hand to his arm, "You saved man's life for god's sake. Come back to the Sanctuary. We can catch up."

Dwight glances at me.

"You want to?" I raise my brows.

He shrugs. "We can go home, if you want."

"But do you want to?"

"I don't care." He replies.

"Okay," I sigh, trying not to smile, "We'll stay the night."

"Yay!" Birdie cheers. "I wanna spend the night with Hal and Lara!"

"Yay!" Laura picks her up. "We're gonna have so much fun, Pidge!"

"Yeah!"

Dwight takes her to pack her in the car. I look to the hospital.

"You wanna go in?"

I shake my head to Hal's question. "Oh, no. We'll see him later. I'm tired."

"Alright, let's head out."

"Yeah."

"Hey!"

We all turn at the voice that grates the air. Daryl's strides up. No one says anything, waiting.

He almost seems too stubborn to speak, or bad at it.

"Thanks," He rasps, "For bringing him back."

Dwight nods.

Daryl pauses, like he usually does. I offer a fraction of a smile. He finally just nods and walks to the house.

I watch him go for a moment, like everyone else, before tuning. "I'll drive."

"I got it." Dwight opens the driver's door.

I don't argue with him. I get in the truck and we follow Hal and Laura toward the gates of Alexandria. The sun's getting low and makes golden rays peek through the trees and everything else it touches.

"I'm hungry, Mommy."

"We're gonna have dinner soon."

"Tired?"

"No." I lean back in my seat with heavy eyes.

"Liar."

I smile. My eyes blink towards him. The sun in his hair makes him look golden like everything else.

"What?"

"Nothing." I look past him, out the window.

Norah carries a tray down the street. She goes down the steps to the terrace with caution.

Dwight watches her and then looks to me. I smile a little more and then adjust in my seat, turning my head forward, look out the windshield.

…

I smell the chili from the open window. About fucking time.

"I'm starving."

"You are not." Norah balances the tray on her hip as she closes the door.

"Am too," I walk over to the bars, "You didn't bring lunch."

"I know, I'm sorry," She sets the tray down, "That's why I brought you an extra big helping and extra cornbread."

"It's not dry, is it?"

"Don't be an asshole. I was gonna offer you seconds."

"Who says I'd want seconds?" I grin.

She rolls her eyes. "I'll be back in twenty."

"Why didn't you bring me lunch?"

"I got busy and forgot."

"You don't forget," I stir the chili, "Not unless something's on your mind."

She scoffs. "Oh, please do not act like you know how to read me."

"See a person well enough, you start to pick up on things."

She shakes her head like I'm crazy. "Well, if you must know, I was babysitting."

"Oh, you're the new Olivia," I wager, "They always gotta find someone to watch their kids, don't they?"

"Parents need sitter sometimes, yes," She retorts, "And I was watching someone's little girl because Rick was found and he-"

"Wait, what?"

"Nan," She clarifies, "Your little girl's mother? She and her husband found him in the river where they live."

"Alive?"

"Yes," Norah nods, "He's in bad shape, but he could pull through."

"Shit." I say, amazed and somewhat relieved.

"Yeah."

I furrow my brows. "Is she still here?"

"No, they just left."

"They?" I stare. "My girl was with her?"

"Yeah, and her husband."

"They're not married."

"Well, whatever they are, he was with her."

"Thought he wasn't allowed back?"

She shrugs. "I'll be back."

I was gonna wonder why she didn't come see me, but I guess I don't need to. Still, I can't help but be disappointed.

I sit down to eat. They live near a river. I stir the chili some more and contemplate if I'm hungry or not. I am, so I dig in.

Rick's alive. Good. Even better that Nan saved him.

I groan to myself. Because the chili's a little too hot and because who the fuck am I kidding?

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **CLTex: Yeah, see, I always imagined they'd have a boy the second time around with the notion that Negan would be jealous, too, but the more and more I think about it, the less I like that idea. There's something awful about desiring a boy over a girl baby that I can't look passed. It almost makes appear Birdie less than. I haven't made a decision yet, but if it is a boy, I don't know if there'll be any resentment or whatever from Negan.**

 **Kara315: Me, too! I didn't want to kill off Rick! I like him too much haha. I know, a boy could be fun. I think I'm more hung up on the baby being a little blondie, whatever they turn out to be.**

 **StTudnoBright: Lol, I don't know why, but I find it funny to have Negan read classics that aren't super manly like Hemingway. He might start a library.**


	17. Chapter 17

We get to The Sanctuary around dusk. Even three years after Negan lost the war, it still looks ominous around this time of day.

Dwight and I talked at the beginning of drive, but as we get nearer and nearer to the factory, he grows more and more quiet. Birdie fell asleep midway. After the talk settled down, I faded in and out of snoozing myself. In between, I heard Dwight tapping his one finger on the steering wheel. It sounds like mimicry of a heart beat or counting to three and stops for a while and picks up again.

"You might wanna wake Birdie," He tells me, "We're pulling up."

I rub my eye, sit myself up more, and reach towards the backseat. "Birdie?" I give her leg and a little shake. "Birdie, honey, wake up. We're here."

Birdie moves in her seat.

The gates are rolled back by the guards. Hal and Laura's car drives forward and Dwight moves after them. He taps his finger.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You've been tapping your finger the whole way."

"It's nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," He reaches for my hand, "I'm fine."

I can't help but smile, because the ring on my hand that he's holding glistens off the setting sun.

Dwight follows Laura to park. I see his eyes glance around while trying to keep his head forward.

"It does look different."

I look out the window. My smile lessens a little. It has changed. It's only been six months since I've been here, but I see what Hal means. The plants are all weak and limp.

We get out and I go around to get Birdie.

"Welcome back." Laura claps Dwight on the shoulder.

"Yeah." Dwight says under his breath, looking up at the factory.

"Can I play with my friends?" Birdie asks me.

"Uh, maybe, if it's not too late."

"Come on." Hal says, walking towards the entrance. Laura follows. I put Birdie down so she can walk.

"Daddy, hold my hand."

I start to walk with Hal and Laura, until I notice Dwight standing motionless. His eyes are fixed upwards.

"You coming?"

He blinks and looks over at me. "Yeah," He takes Birdie's hand, "Let's go."

The three of us catch up to Hal and Laura. The Saviors by the gate stare as we go up the steps towards the open doors. A man exiting as we are going on does a double take.

"D?"

"Hey."

The factory floor is buzzing with people. I walk further to the yellow rails, watching them move about. It makes me anxious and I don't know why.

"What's going on?"

Hal looks over. "Oh, probably the first round of people moving on."

"I thought you said you only _thought_ people might move on."

"Yeah."

I turn my head. "You didn't tell me they were already leaving."

"I didn't know it'd happen so soon."

I look back at the factory floor. Some people have started to look up, which must mean they've noticed Dwight.

"Come on," Hal touches my shoulder, "You three can have dinner at our place."

"Mommy, where's Alma and Benji?"

"They're probably having dinner right now," I tell her as we go with them, "We'll find 'em later, okay?"

We run into a lot of people as we make our way to Hal and Laura's. Most of them greeted Dwight with surprised looks, followed by sincere or indifferent words about seeing him back.

Dwight seemed mutely surprised that he was received so well. I think he really thought that the Saviors had taken on Daryl's attitude towards him, or otherwise held on to the grudge of his betrayal during the war. But the Saviors let it go just as easily as they did the rules and practices they firmly believed in under Negan after Negan had been brought down by Rick. People are like that.

"Alright," Hal says as he opens his door, "We're low on food at the moment, so I'm afraid options are limited."

"Whatever you make will be fine." I smile, looking around the room that clearly tells of two people merging together in so little a space to live.

"You wanna go to your old place?" Laura asks. "Just to, I don't know, settle?"

"Sure."

"Cool," She goes to the dresser by their bed, "You guys can borrow some clothes since yours have blood stains."

I look down. I really hadn't noticed mine until now. I accept the change of clothes with a polite smile. "Thanks. We remember where it's at."

She nods. "Here, I locked it." She gives us a key from her rings of keys.

Dwight, Birdie, and I leave. I lead the way to our old place, which was Dwight's room before I moved in. I never knew Laura had kept it for us. I just assumed that once we left, the place would be picked cleaned or someone would move in.

We get to the door and I almost hesitate for a moment before opening the door. The room looks to be about the same as we left it, except for a few things missing, which was to be expected.

"Wow."

"Yeah," I agree, "It's almost like we didn't leave."

"Whose house is this?" Birdie asks, looking up at Dwight.

Dwight glances down. "It used to be ours."

"No, we don't live here." She says, matter of fact. "We live at our house."

"Yeah, but before lived at our house, you, me, Mom lived here."

"We did live here?"

"Yeah, we did," I smile at her, "You were born here in the hospital."

"When I was a baby?"

"Mhm," I go over to the bed and sit, "We lived here when you were just a baby in my tummy and then you were born and we…" My eyes momentarily meet Dwight's, "We stayed a little bit until Daddy got our house ready. And then we moved when you were still a baby."

"I don't 'member."

"No, you were too little to remember." I look to the end of the bed. I smile and point. "You used to sleep right there in a little crib."

Birdie goes over to the foot of the bed. "Right here?"

"Mhm, and you were such a good sleeper."

"Aw," Birdie climbs on the bed, "I was a good baby."

"Yes, you were a very good baby."

"We're gonna move here?"

"No, we're just staying the night."

"Good, 'cause I don't have my toys and my blanket."

I kiss her head. I watch Dwight sit down in his old leather chair. He sits slowly and doesn't ease in it right away or put his arms on the rests, as if he's expecting it to detonate. It's sort of cute.

The room has a smell of dust, but doesn't seem to have that much of it. It's almost like someone comes in to freshen it up now and again.

"We should change."

"Yeah."

"Turn 'round." Birdie says, standing in the bed.

"No, you turn around," I chuckle as I unbutton my shirt, "We're the ones changing."

She covers her eyes. "I can see your boobies."

"Turn around then," I let the dirty clothes fall to the floor, "And sit down before you fall."

"Look at your drawings."

"Yeah." I smile as she wades over to me. She touches the butterfly above my knee. "Did you drawed that?"

"No, I didn't draw that."

"I like it."

"Yeah, me, too." I pull up the pair of jeans that fit me better than I thought they would. I look over my shoulder to see Dwight changing.

"Your boobies are big, Mommy."

"Are they?" I snicker, picking up the folded shirt.

Birdie pulls her shirt and looks down inside. "Yeah."

I laugh as I put the shirt on. My breasts aren't really all that big.

Birdie touches my elbow as I lift the shirt over my head. I smile at her. "What?"

"Birdie." She giggles.

"Yeah, that is a birdie." I peck her lips.

"Let's go home to our house."

"We will tomorrow morning."

"Now, Mommy."

"It's late," I sit back down and lie back in the bed, "Daddy and I are too tired to drive home."

"I do it."

"Did you bump your head?"

She laughs, falling against me. "No."

"Good." I glance over at Dwight.

He looks back. "What?"

"You look tired."

"Yeah, I am."

"Come lay down," I tell him, "I'll tell Hal and Laura you were too tired to have dinner. They'll understand."

"No, I'm fine. I can eat."

"Yeah, I'm starving," I watch him sit in his chair, "Is it strange being back?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Well...it's only for tonight."

He nods, sinking back in his chair.

…

"How'd you like it?"

"It was alright," I drop the bowl on the pan, "I am likely to shit fire though."

Norah cackles. "So, does that mean you don't want seconds?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"How about a little bread pudding?"

"What, like dessert?" I furrow my brows. "Am I being sent to the electric chair tomorrow?"

"No," She scoffs, "I'm just being nice."

"Why?"

"Because you haven't been a grumpy asshole lately."

I snicker. "So, your saltiness is on account of me being an asshole?"

"That's right," She wraps her sweater around herself, "I was matching your energy."

"Huh."

"So, do you want any?"

I look down at my hands. "No, that's okay. Thanks for asking."

"What's wrong?" Norah picks up the tray.

"Nothing."

"Is it about Nan?"

"No."

"They were here because they found Rick," She says, "They were doing a good deed."

I nod, opening my book.

"It's not as if she was purposely forgetting about you."

"I wasn't thinking about it."

"Okay." She picks up the tray.

I let out a breath. "What?"

"Nothing, I said 'okay'."

"Yeah, but I sensed a little skepticism."

"Did you?"

"Yeah," I say, "So, what?"

Norah shakes her head. "Nothing." She goes to the door and pauses. "Except, I think it's very becoming of you is all."

"What's becoming of me?"

"This," She says, "Being all disappointed that she didn't come to see you. I think it's sweet."

I scoff. "I just wanted information about my daughter. That's all."

Norah smiles. "Alright."

"If you're gonna be an asshole, you can fuckin' leave."

She chuckles. "I'm going."

I lay back and return to reading. Asshole.

 **...**

An hour and a half after we get in. Hal knocks to let us know dinner is ready. He made grilled chicken with rosemary potatoes and carrots.

"This is limited options?" I ask him as we sit down.

"What?" He shrugs. "We've got to use it before it goes bad."

Laura slides a grilled cheese sandwich onto a plate with potatoes and carrots on it. "Here you go, Bird."

"Everything smells good."

"Thanks, love." Hal pops open a bottle of wine.

"I still can't believe you guys found Rick," Laura scoffs, sitting down, "Man, what luck, huh?"

"Yeah."

"And don't worry about Daryl. I took care of that for you."

I peer across the table at her. "Yeah, that's what Hal said...Thanks."

She shakes her head as she salts her potatoes. "It's no big deal."

"What did you say to him?" Hal asks her.

"Oh, I just, you know, told him to grow up and cut the shit. The fact that D brought Rick back helped a lot, so he didn't need much persuasion."

Dwight doesn't comment on that. He just accepts the glass of wine Hal pours him.

Laura's eyes glance up from her plate. Once casually, then the second time a double take. " _Wow_ , nice ring, Nan."

I extend my fingers, looking at it. "Oh, thank you."

"I'll say," Hal puts his hand out, so I give him mine, "Early Christmas present?"

"Uh, no," I glance at Dwight, "Dwight and I sort of got married."

They both stare. "Married?"

"Yeah," I shrug, "It was no big deal."

"No big deal?" Hal scoffs. "You got married and it was no big deal?"

"Well, what I meant was that I asked Dwight to marry me, he said yes, and then we both agreed that neither of us wanted a wedding."

"You've been gone for like four days."

"So?"

Hal huffs, astounded. "Who married you?"

"No one, Hal; we agreed to be married and it now it's so."

"That's not-"

"Hal," Laura gives him a look, "I think you mean to say congratulations."

He looks at her and then us and then he exhales. "Yeah. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Thanks."

"Mommy, I want ketchup for my tatoes."

"I gotcha, Pidge." Hal goes to the fridge.

"I want a lot, Hal."

"Just a dollop or two," I tell him, "She'll let you drown her meal in ketchup."

"Where'd you find the ring?" Laura asks, inspecting it on my finger.

"It was my mother's." Dwight tells her.

Hal pours ketchup on Birdie's plate. "There you go, deary."

"Thank you." Birdie chews part of her sandwich.

"You're very welcome." Hal brings over the wine bottle and fills his and Laura's glass. "We should celebrate with a drink. A toast to your marriage."

"No champagne?"

"Shut up," He chuckles, reaching out, "Hand me your glass."

I look at the glass. "Oh, no thanks."

"Come on, it's a good wine."

"No, thank you."

"We're toasting."

"Hal, just get her some water," Laura tells him, "She can't drink."

Both Dwight and I look over at her. So does Hal. His brows furrow.

"Can't?" He turns to me. "Why can't you?"

Laura looks at me, realizing what she's said.

"Because I'm a lightweight," I say with a small chuckle, "I don't want Birdie to see me like that."

Hal looks me over and I smile. "Okay." He sets the bottle down. "I guess we wouldn't want Dwight to have to carry both of you home, would we?"

I give a humored smile.

"So, where's everyone going?" Dwight asks.

"Don't know," Hal answers, "Anywhere that'll have 'em."

Dwight nods, poking his carrots.

"I was thinking about talking to Alexandria," Laura chimes in, "I don't care what Regina or Jed says, we have good report with them. Hilltop, too, since Harlan's been around. I'm gonna talk to him tomorrow morning."

I look up. "He's here?"

"Yeah."

I glance back down, turning my fork over. I'm wondering if I should go see him, or if Siddiq is the doctor I see for this baby, because he's the one who gave me the test. I guess that's not how it works. And Harlan practiced this kind of medicine. But he lives further away.

When I pick my gaze back up, I catch Hal looking at me. I smile, unassumingly, despite being nervous before continuing to eat.

"You guys are lucky," Laura tips back her glass, "You got out before all this mess and don't have to worry about where you're gonna live."

I can't help but feel the unintentional callousness in that. We didn't get out, we were told to leave.

Dwight drinks from his glass. "Yeah, well…I'm sure they'll take you in."

"Yeah," Laura looks at Birdie and smiles, "How you like the kicks, dudette?"

"I like 'em." Birdie says with food in her mouth. Her feet swing under the table.

"Cool."

"But not as good as you like my gifts, yeah?"

Birdie nods at Hal. "Mommy took my knife, 'cause it's too sharp and I would get cutted on my fingers."

"Mums, am I right?"

"Yeah."

We laugh. I look over at Dwight whose mouth still has the remains of humor. His eyes are down at his plate, where his fork is motionless.

"What time you planning on leaving tomorrow?"

Dwight's eyes move up. His mouth opens to speak, but he looks at me. "Uh...I don't know. Probably first thing, unless Nan wants to stay."

I shrug. "I don't care. We can leave early."

"Well, then, I guess after sun up."

"I don't wanna leave tomorrow!" Birdie complains. "I wanna play with my friends, Daddy."

"You were just saying you wanted to go home tonight a few minutes ago." I tell her.

"I wanna play with my friends."

"Well, maybe you can before we leave."

"I wanna sleepover."

"We are sleeping over."

"I wanna sleep over with Hal and Lara."

"You do?"

"Yeah, they're my best friends," Birdie picks up a carrot, " 'Cept for Daddy."

"Daddy's your best friend?" I huff. "What does that make me?"

"You're Mommy."

Hal chuckles.

I feign hurt. "Ow, that hurt my feelings, Birdie."

"Sorry." Birdie says nonchalantly as she eats.

I turn to Dwight. "You see? This is why I want ..."

I pause as I realize that I was about to say that I wanted a boy.

"Want what?" Hal says.

"Uh, Dwight to start disciplining Birdie more."

Dwight's brows knit.

"He's too lenient and so I have always have to be the one who-"

"Doles out the beatings?"

I scoff. "Very funny. I'm the one who always has to be the stern parent and so Dwight always gets to be the best friend."

"Really?" Dwight says to me.

It's less of a "oh, really?" inquiry and more of a "this is really what you're going with?" tone.

I smile meekly and shrug. Hal and Laura laugh.

"Mommy, I want more water, please."

"I'll get it," Hal starts to rise, "If you promise to be nice to your mum."

"Okay."

"There you are, Pigeon."

"Thank you," Birdie says, "Hal, I wanna sleep over."

"You do, do you?"

"Yeah, with you and Lara."

"That's up to your mum and dad."

Birdie looks at us. "Can I sleep over?"

"You want to?"

"Yeah."

"You won't want us to come get you in the middle of the night?"

"Mm, no."

"Okay," I breathe, "If you really want to, then I guess it'd be alright."

"Yay!" Birdie reaches her fist over. "Poun' it!"

Hal and Laura both bump fists with her. "Nice!"

…

After dinner, Hal offers us coffee but we both decline. I'm grateful for Nan being the first to call it a night. I'm exhausted. She double checks with Birdie before we leave to make sure she'll be okay, even though we'll be down the hall.

We walk to the room quietly. The old place is a short walk, but she still links her arm to mine and rests her head on my shoulder. It feels familiar when we get in and flick on the lights.

"We're gonna get a knock on the door tonight."

"I don't know," I say, "She's tough and we're right here."

"It's a shorter distance from her room to ours and she still runs in most nights."

"Well, the bed's big enough for three."

"Not really, but we can squeeze her in." She starts to undress. "Good thing I'm only a few weeks along, otherwise you might have to sleep in your chair."

I smile. "We'll be fine, because she's gonna sleep through the night."

"I wouldn't bet on that."

I get some water. "You gonna tell Hal before Birdie?"

"Yes, but we're gonna wait until December, at least."

I nod. "You gonna see Harlan?"

"If he has time."

"I'm sure he won't mind?"

She looks over. "You want me to?"

"It's up to you," I take off my shirt, "It might be a good idea."

"Would you go with me?"

"Yeah, if you want."

She snickers. "That's different."

"What?"

"Well, I was thinking it about how it sort of feels like old times," She moves back the blankets, "Except that."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said you'd come with me, if I asked you," Nan sits, "You wouldn't the last time with Birdie."

"I had my reasons."

"I know," She smiles, "But it still feels good to hear you would."

I have a seat on the bed, waiting as she moves further back. "Think you should move towards the wall? You've been getting sick." I lay down.

"Aw, now it is like old times," Nan snuggles up to me, "I like laying on this side."

"In case someone breaks in?"

We chuckle together. I touch her arm. Her foot softly moves against my leg. I feel her skin as I move my fingers down to her hand. I take it up and look at it.

She smiles. "It's beautiful, D."

I smooth my thumb over the ring. "You're beautiful."

"Hey, you know, something? This is kind of like our honeymoon."

I laugh a little. "What?"

"Yeah," Nan sits up, "All of today's craziness aside, we did get married."

"I thought we said we were married a few days ago."

"I know, but it kind of feels official now with the ring." She wiggles her fingers. It's cute, so I laugh. She chuckles, straddling me. "Birdie's with Hal and Laura for the night. We're somewhere away from home."

"We're at the Sanctuary."'

"Yeah, but we're in a place and a room that has history in it," She says, "We met here."

"Yeah…" My smiles starts to lower, "Not on good terms, though."

"It doesn't matter."

"I wasn't good to you," I remind her, "In fact, I was an asshole to you."

She looks down in thought.

"I used you."

Her eyes flicker to mine. "You made for it."

"No, I haven't."

"What?" She furrows her brows and I can't tell if confused or mad. "Yes, you have."

"No, I haven't."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I still hate myself for it," I tell her, "I'm still working on making things right."

"You have made things right!" Nan nearly shouts. She moves off me in frustration and walks the floor. "You apologized to me, Dwight. AndI _forgave_ you. You said you would be better and you are." She looks at me. "Is this because of Daryl?"

"No," I say, which is nearly a lie, "It's about how I let myself become who I am and how I have to live with everything I did."

"You don't have to, if you let it go," She retorts, "Accept that the person you are now is how you made things right."

I feel tears start to ache behind my eyes.

She comes back to bed, climbing over me. "The past doesn't hold onto you, you hold onto it, so let it go." She brings the blankets up to her chest and plops her arms down on top. "Shit, I forgot to turn off the light."

"I got it." I get out of bed to turn the lights off by the door.

"You didn't have to take us," She adds in bed.

I look over. She's studying the ring on her finger.

"You could have left Birdie and I here after finding out she was Negan's and you could have went off to look for Sherry and lived your own life, but you didn't. For that, you're golden in my books."

I turn off the lights and when I do, Nan puts her hand down. She turns her head and peers over at me in the dark.

I go back to the bed and lay down. Nan reaches for my hand and I let her have it. I hold her hand in mine for a minute, before I turn my head to look at her.

She looks back and smiles a little. I place my hand on her face as I move to kiss her. She touches my wrist and returns the kiss.

I move from my position and eclipse her, placing a knee between her legs.

Nan breaks from the kiss, looking from where my knee is to my eyes. "I thought you said we shouldn't?"

"I know, but-"

"You changed your mind?"

"Yeah," I kiss her lips, "We're on our honeymoon, right?"

Nan's eyes move across mine and her lips curl into a humored smile as she starts to laugh.

"This is what you're supposed to do on a honeymoon, isn't it?"

She chuckles, touching my sides. "Yeah, it is."

"Well."

She snickers against my lips, wrapping her arms around me.

Her body feels warm against mine. It doesn't take long for me to get hard since I was already a little turned on before we started. I feel her hand travel down and I breathe through my nose as she touches me.

Nan moves under me, parting her legs more and struggling to pull down her underwear. She really wants it and I feel like an asshole for getting harder realizing that.

She reaches into the slit of my underwear and gives me a few tender, long strokes of her hand. It makes me kiss her deeper before pressing my forehead to hers. She touches the scarred side of my face, kissing me there and then my lips.

I move her hand away, so I can push my underwear down. Her legs slide up and I direct myself to her center.

We both moan as I enter her. I touch under her thigh as I thrust slowly. She buries her face into the crook of my neck.

"Oh, Dwight," She breathes as I thrust again, "I love you."

I kiss her shoulder. "I love you, too, Nan."

I go to continue, but just as I'm about to, there's a little knock at the door.

Both Nan and I glance over to it. She puts her hand on my arm and looks up at me. I look down.

"It's her."

"It could be someone else."'

"Mommy!" Birdie voice calls with more knocking. "Daddy!"

"Shit." I get off Nan.

"What's it been?" She breathes. "Thirty minutes?"

I check my watch. "Bad timing."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine," I grab my pants off the chair, "Do you have your underwear on?"

"Sh," She squirms under the covers, "Hal or Laura's on the other side with her."

I wait until Nan nods then I go over to the door. I adjust myself before opening the door.

"Is it morning already?"

"Hi, Daddy!" Birdie smiles.

"Hey, Bird."

"She changed her mind." Laura says.

Birdie runs past me. "Mommy!"

"Hey," Nan smiles as she sits up in the bed, "What happened? I thought you wanted to sleep over."

"I was just kidding," She climbs up onto the bed, "I wanna sleep with you and Daddy."

"Oh, okay," Nan moves over, "I guess that'll be alright."

"I'll be right back." I tell her, excusing myself past Laura. I gotta go finish before I get sore.

"We come at a bad time?" Laura asks behind me as she walks.

"No, we were just getting ready to go to bed."

"Really? No, honeymoon while the kid's gone?"

I scoff. "If we were, why would I tell you that?"

"I don't know," She says, "Nan's cheeks were flushed."

I look over at her.

"I could take Birdie for a little while longer, if you want."

"Thanks, but it's fine."

"Okay...congratulations by the way," She clears her throat, "I'm glad you two are happy; you deserve it."

"Thanks." I try not to sound short like I'm trying to shake her, but I'm trying to get to the bathrooms.

"Congrats on the other thing, too."

"Thanks."

"Dwight, wait."

"I gotta take a piss."

"Okay, I'll wait."

"It's fine, you don't have to."

"I wanna talk to you."

I exhale. Fuck.

"I got cigarettes, if you wanna smoke after."

I lick my lips, before sighing. "Fine, just give me a minute."

"Okay."

I look over at her. "You can head out. I'll be out."

She nods. "Okay."

I wait until she goes down the hall, before going in.

After washing my hands, I go out to meet Laura. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't more compelled to do it for the cigarette than anything else.

She's not the only one outside, but she's standing by the yellow railing alone. It looks like she's overseeing.

"Hey."

Laura turns and offer me a cigarette and a light. "Did ya get the packs I sent Nan home with?"

"Yeah," I inhale from my cigarette, "Nan wants me to quit."

"Oh, shit, I didn't know," Laura takes another drag, "'Cause of the baby?"

"Well, yeah, but she's been bugging me about it for awhile." I exhale out into the night air.

"Sorry, didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"You didn't," I say, "She doesn't know I have 'em."

Laura nods. "How's it feel to be back?" I hear the sarcastic edge in her voice. "Now that everything's falling apart?"

"How long 'til you think the factory will be empty?"

"They'll all be gone in the next week or so," Laura soberly replies, "The Sacturary's done; the Saviors are done."

I nod, putting my cigarette to my lips. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I bet."

I look at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, D," Laura meets my eyes, "After everything that happened to you here, you mean to tell me you aren't glad that everything he built is gone?"

I look down at my cigarette. Am I? I'm not sure I even care if this place thrives or not. I don't mean to sound spiteful, I'm not, I just stopped caring when all that was important to me left and the man who would cause them misery behind bars.

"I really wanted this place to work," She adds, "I really wanted us to be more than the past. I wanted word to get back to that asshole that we were making it without him."

I breathe smoke through my nose. "You did."

"Yeah," She scoffs, "Three years of struggling to make our community a place that didn't have to take from others to survive, only to have to run to whoever will fucking take us."

"Hey, at least you tried, right? You turned things around?"

Laura scoffs again.

"Look, this is a factory, Laur; it's not meant to be farmed on. Never was. Negan knew that."

She licks her lips, looking down over the rail. "I tried so hard."

I flick my cigarette. I put my hand on her shoulder, sorry for her.

"I'm sorry for what I did," She says, not looking back, "You have to understand, I care about this place. Always have; I thought I was doing the right thing for the Sanctuary. I believed in Negan."

"Yeah, a lot of people did."

Laura sniffs, before taking one last drag from her cigarette and flicking it over the rail. "Congrats again."

I nod, before going back inside. I feel bad for Laura. She's really bummed. I wish I could tell her I cared about the Sanctuary falling apart as much as she does.

I hear talking inside the room as I get to the door. When I open the door, I find Birdie laying close to Nan, whose eyes are shut.

"And then, um, Maria sings."

"Again?" Nan murmurs.

Birdie fiddles with a strand of Nan's hair. "Um, yeah."

"She sure does sing a lot."

"Yeah."

"Does she ever not sing?"

"Mommy, you seen the movie."

"I don't remember it."

"Yes, you do 'member."

"I like when you tell me about it."

I smile, shutting the door behind me.

Birdie looks over. "Mommy's sleeping, Daddy. You have to be quiet."

"I'm not sleeping," Nan moves, opening her sleepy eyes. "I was listening to a bedtime story."

I snicker, going over to the sink to wash my hands. I dress down for bed and then turn off the light.

"Move over, Bird."

"I can't, Mommy's in the way."

"I'll move over."

I get in bed and feel the exhaustion return. Birdie works her way closer to me, so I put my arm around her and hold her, kissing her head.

Nan rolls our way, draping her arm over the both of us. "You were gone awhile."

"Was I?"

"Yeah," She says in a half whisper, "Longer than I thought you'd take."

I break into a quiet laugh, which makes her snicker. "I stepped outside with Laura for a few minutes. She wanted to talk."

"About what?"

I softly smile at Birdie who looks up at me. "She apologized."

"Oh."

I look off towards the dark, making out the silhouettes and shadows of the furniture in the room. I can't wait for the morning to come, so we can get out of here.

"Dwight?"

"Yeah."

"Before we go home tomorrow," She begins, "I'd like to go back to Alexandria."

"Why?"

"I want to see him."

"Oh, okay."

I can feel her eyes on me. "I'm talking about Negan."

I stare across the room.

"I mean, I would like to see how Rick's doing, but I…" She pauses, "I want to see Negan before we leave, too. I have to."

"...Okay."

Why does she have to? I don't ask it, but I wonder about it.

…

The next morning is quiet. Well, at least it is for the three of us. Dwight got up early, because I told him I had to get up to be sick, and after I came back, he went to shower and came back with some stuff to make breakfast before we head out. The three of us eat grits and Birdie and I split an apple.

Outside the room, you can hear the sound of packing and desertion. The bridge blowing up really was the catalyst Hal and Laura feared it would be. They act as if the factory itself is on fire.

Birdie wants to go see the twins and Kit, which reminds me that Isobel, Nate, Lizzie, and all the rest are here as well. I finish my breakfast a little faster than Dwight and so Birdie and I set out to go find them. Birdie pushes her breakfast away and wants to go with me. I can tell Dwight's a little annoyed, because he wanted to leave as soon as we were done with breakfast, but I just want to see where they're heading.

I go to Marisol and Reed's first, so Birdie can see the twins.

"Reed says the kids will love it there," Marisol claims about the Kingdom, "It's big and there's a school there for when they're old enough." She packs plates and bowls into a box.

"You think you'll be happy there?"

She shrugs. "I'm sure. All the space there has got to be better than the cramped confines of this place."

"Yeah…" I look over at Birdie and the twins, "Well, we'll get out of your way, so you can finish packing."

"Alright, see ya around."

Next, I go to where Frankie and Keller live. I only find Keller, packing like everyone else. He tells me Frankie and the rest of them are up at Danica's, trying to decide on where they all want to go.

Apparently, he and Frankie are gonna head to Alexandria like DJ and Tonya. Like Laura and Hal, DJ has it in good with them at Alexandria and Keller will go where any of the three of them will go, loyal.

The argument, according to Keller, is over where the others will go. Mark is waffling about whether he wants to move himself, Amber, and Lillian to Kingdom or Hilltop, but Amber doesn't want to go someplace where none of the other former wives aren't going. Hazel will follow Eugene, because she's studying under him and Danica will more than likely move to Hilltop to practice under Harlan.

I guess they're all getting a little anxious about being officially separated by communities. I get it. They spent all that time together. They were each other's only source of comfort, because only they could understand each other's choices and the hardship of living with that choice. Of living with him.

Even now, three years after Negan, they still get referred to as Negan's wives, or the former wives. They were a community within a community that's not breaking apart. Living separate lives is difficult when you've lived as a family for that long. Hell, even I still feel apart of them, and of him, and I wasn't there for that long.

I find out where my former group has been staying and take Birdie there. They're all spread out among two floors, so I seek out Nate and Isobel and Lizzie.

"Haven't figured it out yet," Nate tells me as he and Isobel put away what little they had in crates, "We were just getting settled here and now everyone's scattering like shrapnel."

"I don't know much about The Kingdom, because I've never been there, but Hilltop and Alexandria are good places."

"I don't think we'd head to Hilltop," Isobel wipes some sweat from her brow, "I heard their leader just hanged someone not too long ago. Kids saw it happen; I don't want Kit exposed to that."

The only reason I won't argue is because of my brief encounter with Maggie just barely a week ago, which wasn't even remotely close to what happened to Gregory, but that I'm still sore about.

"Well, I know a lot of people I trust are going to Alexandria. If we had to move, that's where I'd go."

"Really?"

"Yes." I say, though I'm not so sure of that answer. At least for my family, anyway, but our circumstances are different.

"I'll talk to everyone, see what they think." Nate stacks a crate on top of another.

I nod. "Where's Lizzie?"

"At the bridge still, cleaning up."

"Oh, well, tell her I was here, okay?"

"Sure, keep in touch."

"I will; we'll be coming to town often," I look over at Birdie, "Come on, Bird, we gotta get going."

"Aw, I wanna play with Kit, Mommy!"

"If we don't get back soon, Daddy's gonna be mad and we don't want that, do we?"

"No." Birdie gets up and wallows over.

I take her hand. "Safe travels."

"Same to you."

As I turn, I'm startled by the presence of someone standing in the doorway. It's Troy. "Oh, excuse me."

He looks me over and steps aside. I can't help but feel a little weird by that brief encounter, but I shrug it off.

I start to go towards the front of the factory, before I pause. I look over my shoulder; staring, thinking. Before I can fully turn around, Birdie tugs on my hand.

"Come on, Mommy."

I smile. "I'm coming."

We make our way to the front of the factory, where Dwight said to meet him. When we reach the outside, Birdie heads down the steps upon spotting Dwight by our truck. I walk down behind her, knitting my brows at what looks like, and is, smoke from a cigarette.

He sees and hears Birdie come running up and throws down the cigarette with a curse as he steps on it.

"Nice try," I call, "But I saw it."

"It was just-"

"I knew it, I knew you were still smoking behind my back!"

"I am not."

"Oh, and what's that under your foot?"

"It…" Dwight sighs, "Okay, I'm sorry. Laura offered me one and it's cold out here. I was just smoking while I was waiting for you."

"So, I won't find any at home?"

"No."

I arch my brow. "You swear?"

"I swear." He says.

I scan his face for dishonesty. I don't know if I fully believe him, but I exhale. "Fine."

"Morning."

I glance over to the man walking alongside a small horse buggy. It's Harlan. "Oh, hello." I go over to him. "You're leaving?"

"Yes, did you need something?"

"Uh, no, no, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Harlan looks me over. "You look like you might be green in the gills."

"Oh, it's just-"

"Morning sickness?"

I stare up at him, wondering how he knew.

"I told you before," He winks, "I can spot a pregnant woman a mile a way."

I smile, humored. "I was wondering where I could see you now that The Sanctuary's emptying out."

"Hilltop, unless you'd like me to meet you at ALexandria," Harlan says, "We found a second sonogram machine that I've been fixing up; I was gonna give it to Siddiq if I get it running."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"No, of course not," He smiles, "Siddiq and I are the only two seasoned doctors, so we're used to traveling for our patients."

I smile again, this time grateful. "Thank you."

He nods. "How about we meet one month from today? Say, afternoon?"

"Sure."

"Alright," He pats my arm, "See ya then."

"Bye."

I watch the horse drawn buggy go out the open gates.

"Hey, darlin'."

The content line on my face disappears. I look over to see Jed strolling up with a duffle bag over one shoulder. He eyes me like he usually does.

"Heard you're some sort of hero."

I roll my eyes. "Where are you going?"

"The open road," He replies, "Few of us aren't willing to give up who we are." He grins cockily. "We're Saviors; we don't go begging for someplace to stay that don't want us there in the first place."

"Does that mean no place will take you?"

He chuckles at my wry response. "Care to board us at your place?"

"We're full, sorry." I turn around.

"Your kid get her birthday gift?"

I stop and shift halfway. "You sent the scarf?"

"Figured she might want something of her old man's," Jed retorts, "Since it's getting cold out."

My body turns back around and Jed smiles, waiting.

"Nan," Dwight takes my arm, "Come on. Birdie's in the car."

"How it's goin', D?" Jed nods towards Dwight, before looking me up and down. "Must be good."

"Fuck you." Dwight encourages me to the truck.

"What an asshole."

"Yeah." Dwight opens the door for me.

I look out the window as Dwight goes around. Jed's still standing there. He puckers his lips my way and I look off in disgust, giving him the finger.

"You should have let me hit him."

"Yeah, well, you have a history of getting hit back," Dwight shuts his door, "Also, you're pregnant, so I thought maybe I should step in."

"Yeah…"

"You shouldn't hit, Mommy."

"Thank you, Bird." Dwight says as he fires up the truck.

I wave to Solara as we leave The Sanctuary for the last time.

"Alexandria?"

"Yeah."

"You find out where everyone's going?"

"All over the place."

Dwight nods.

I look at him. "You didn't like being back here, did you?"

"It was alright."

"Be honest."

He breathes in and then out. "I'm glad we're leaving."

"Are you glad it's gonna be empty soon?"

"I don't care about that," Dwight answers, "But being back here made me realize I wasn't missing out on anything and that I wouldn't want to live here, if I had the choice." He turns down the main road. "Too many bad memories."

I nod my head, looking out the window. "I have my first appointment in a month."

"Okay."

"Are you gonna go with me?"

"Yes."

…

I'm gonna sound like one disgusting motherfucker, but god I fucking love this bedpan. Sure, during the summer, it can make your eyes water even with the window open, but nothing makes sitting in jail worth it like watching these assholes have to clean out my piss and shit.

And, any minute now, my cum. I took a nap after breakfast and woke up with a stiffy and because it was a good dream, I'll take care of it.

"Fuck." I relax my body, tugging it a little more. This is the first time I've done this in awhile and reached the end result. Damn, it feels good.

I zip up my suit and steady my breathing as I go to my cot to finish my now cold coffee. I chuckle and I'm not sure why.

The terrace door opens about thirty minutes later as I open my book. I'm almost to the end.

Just as I'm about to drink some coffee, I stop when I see her.

"Hey." Nan shuts the door. Norah's just outside.

"Hey…"

"How are you?"

"Same as I was a few days ago," I reply, "Didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"Oh, yeah, well, we had to come back down sooner than I thought."

"Because of Rick."

She looks puzzled.

"I heard from Norah," I tell her, "You and Dwight found him and brought him to the hospital."

"Yeah, we did."

"Thought you'd be home by now."

"We stayed the night at The Sanctuary."

I nod. "I thought Dwight was banned from coming back?"

"Daryl let it slide," She says, "Given the situation."

I nod again. Too bad. "So, what brings you by?"

"I came to see you."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing," I scratch my beard, "Just thought you wouldn't if Dwight was here."

"Oh."

"Is Birdie with him?"

"Yeah."

I can't act like I'm not pissed by that. I mean, where else would she be but with her stepdad, but it busts my balls to know he's with her and I'm not.

"What are you reading?"

I look up. "What?"

"You're reading," She motions towards the book in my hand, "I've never seen you read before."

I chuckle. "Well, I know, if that's what you're concern is."

Nan laughs a little. It's genuine and warm. I like it when she's like this. "So, what are you reading?"

"Uh, _Wuthering Heights."_

She nods and glances at my window. " _If you ever looked at me once with what I know is in you, I would be your slave."_

I stare, curious. It's funny; the more I see her, the more I notice shit I didn't see before, or otherwise didn't pay any mind to. It's not just her looks, either. Her words have weight to 'em, even the insignificant shit.

She looks back. "You look better."

"Better?"

"Yeah."

"Better how?"

She shrugs. "I don't know."

I look her over. "You're leaving."

"Yeah, it's a long drive."

I glance over at my bedpan and get off the bed to walk to the bars.

"So, how's shit at the Sanctuary?" I ask her.

Her face changes.

"What?"

Nan looks at me and I see the discomfort in her demeanor.

"Tell me," I touch the bars, "What's happened?"

She looks sorry. "The Saviors are leaving The Sanctuary."

"What?"

"That's why I came to see you," She says, "I thought you should know."

I can feel my face sink. "What happened?"

"They can't grow anything out of the ground; nothing is sustainable there."

"Well, of course not, it was goddamn ironworks factory," I tell her, "That's why we only had the small gardens in planter boxes."

She furrows her brows again.

"I knew that before I ever took that place."

Nan looks off. "So, you knew you'd have to extort people?"

"I knew we'd have to find resources somewhere else."

"From other communities?" She looks back at me.

"Whatever it took to keep my people alive," I answer, "I made promises after I took over."

Nan nods her head, but I can sense the disappointment. It bugs me.

"What does it matter?" I ask, irritated. "I'm here now; all that's over with."

"Is that what you have to say for yourself?" She scoffs.

"What else is there to say?"

"How about that you're sorry for you did?"

I huff. "I think it's a little too late for sorries, Nan."

"It's never too late."

I look at her, biting my lip. "So, people are really leaving?"

"Yes."

"Where to?"

"Everywhere," Nan answers, "The Saviors are done. People are going wherever they can."

I peer down. "Damn."

She tucks her hands into her coat pockets. "I have to go. I just wanted to stop by before we went home. I figured it was better to hear it from me than someone else."

I nod, digging a finger into my itchy beard. "How long will you be gone?"

Nan glances up from her boots. She looks back down as soon as our eyes meet. "Winter will be here soon, so probably not for awhile."

I touch the bar. "Any chance I could see her?"

"Negan."

"Yeah, I know," I breathe out, "I had to ask."

Nan looks me over. "It's nice out today."

"Wouldn't know."

"You would, if you looked out the window."

Nan goes to the door. "See you."

I watch her leave. She looks as if she says something to Norah, who replies back and then locks the terrace door. I can't help but see the fucking little grin on her face as she locks the door.

I tap a finger to the bar as Nan disappears upward. I look to the window and go over to it.

The day is nice. Cool air breezes in, but it doesn't feel icy yet. The sky is a little cloudy, but you can still see the sun.

I start to feel the cold air the more I stand there, waiting. I stand there for a long time, thinking maybe she really was talking to me about the fucking day.

"Goddamn it, Nan."

Just as I'm about to move from the window, I see Nan's coat. As they get further down the road, I finally spot Birdie walking with her, hand in hand. She swings Nan and hers arms. I smile, almost to tears. Ah, fuck it, to tears. I still can't see what she looks like, but I know she's my daughter.

Her hair seems darker than Nan's from what I can see. I bet she's beautiful. Hell, I know she's beautiful. She's half me, half her mother.

A little more down the road, a third person comes into sight. My face turns into a grimace and any tears I was starting are nipped in the bud.

Birdie stops abruptly in the street. She turns towards him and says something I can't makeout from here.

He says something back and then he picks her up. They go on towards the entrance. She lays her head on his shoulder. Nan moves closer to the two. It's cute and Kodak worthy and I fucking hate it. I can't see that asshole's burn scars, but right now I'm glad I stuck the iron to his face.

I go back to my cot after they've gone. I don't know why I'm so fucking angry; I knew he was with them. I realize I sat on my book, so I pull it out from under my ass and lie back to continue to read it.

My eyes move over the words, but I don't read a damn thing.

"Motherfucking family stealer."

I move the book out of my sight. I think about what Nan said. I touch the book to my mouth in thought as I look off.

It's Thursday, right? Maybe?

… **Ten Weeks Later...**

"Careful," I chuckle, putting eggs in the basket, "Not too high!"

"Higher, Daddy!"

"No, not higher." I shut the coop door.

Dwight laughs at Birdie's joyful cackling as he pushes the tire swing he roped around a tree in the back for Birdie for Christmas.

"Not too high, Dwight," I tell him again, "She might let go."

"She's not gonna let go." He replies, pushing the tire as it swings back his way.

I shake my head with a breathy sigh as I trudge through the snow to the kitchen door.

"Alright, Bird, I'm getting tired." He brings the tire to a soft stop.

"No, higher, Daddy."

"I gotta rest for a minute."

Birdie wiggles herself out and off the tire swing. "I wanna build a snowman!"

"A snowman?" Dwight says, out of breath from pushing her on the swing. "How about after breakfast?"

"No, not after breakfast!" She crouches down and starts to gather snow between her mittens.

"Alright, just a small though."

"'Kay."

I wash the eggs inside and watch the two of them build a snowman from the window.

Christmas was wonderful. Dwight built the tire swing for Birdie and I got her some other little things in town a few weeks ago when we went for my appointment. Dwight got me a new coat, because mine got torn on a barrier spike. I got him new boots, since despite what he said, he was due for an upgrade.

We agreed that we would only give each other one gift, like always, but Dwight found a waffle iron from that diner called Lorelei's. He also gave me a wooden rattle he made for the new baby. I got a little teary-eyed and it made up for the waffle iron, which really wasn't that frustrating, but was totally breaking the rules.

We also agreed we were going to tell Birdie about the baby that day, but we were sort of waiting for Lizzie, Hal, Laura, and Nate and Isobel to get here to tell them altogether. They ended up not being able to come because it snowed too heavy on the roads and by then I got too nervous to tell Birdie.

She hasn't noticed, which is odd, considering I'm already showing, but I guess kids don't always pay attention to these things. She probably thinks I'm just getting a winter tummy. We'll wait until the new year to tell the rest.

I knock on the window to tell them breakfast is ready. They go around to the front, so they can take their shoes off on the mudrack by the door.

"Hey, hey, take off your coat!" Dwight tells her as they get in.

"And my mittens."

"Yep, and your hat and your scarf," He says, "Hand it over. Okay, you're good to go."

Birdie comes running into the kitchen. "We built a snowman, Mommy!"

"I know, I saw," I put some eggs on all our plates, "Wash your hands."

"Are we eating cinnamon rolls?"

"No, those are gone," I bring a plate of crispy, golden brown waffles to the table, "We're having waffles from Mommy's new waffle iron."

"What are those?"

"Like pancakes," I drop one on her plate, "Except a little better."

"Says who?" Dwight comes in.

"Says I," I retort, "And apparently the man who found and gifted a waffle iron to his wife."

"I was just being nice," He kisses my cheek, "I wasn't giving out my opinion."

The three of us eat for a few minutes. I look over at him every now and then and he looks back, waiting patiently for me. I glance at Birdie, who's eating her waffle bits, unexpectedly.

"I want more syrup, please."

I reach for the syrup instantly and anxiously. "Here you go."

"Thank you," She pokes another waffle piece in her mouth, "These are yummy."

"Better than pancakes?"

"Yeah."

I smile. "That's my girl."

Dwight clears his throat. He wants me to tell her already.

After breakfast, I do the wishes while Birdie goes off to play and Dwight finishes his coffee.

"You gonna tell her?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Today."

He gets up and comes to the sink. "I don't know why you're so nervous," He hands me his empty mug, "She's gonna be happy."

"I hope so."

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"Because she's not gonna be an only child anymore," I look at him, "The world's not gonna revolve around just her."

"Yeah, but she'll have a brother or sister," Dwight leans against the counter, "She'll like being a big sister more than she'll hate it."

I sigh through my nose, shutting off the water and drying my hands. I go to the fridge, taking the sonogram from behind the magnet. I look at it, before the living room.

"Birdie?" I call to her, "Could you come in here a minute?"

Birdie gets up from the rug in the living room and runs in. "I wasn't climbing on the table."

"I know you weren't," I say, "Have a seat at the table, please."

"It not lunchtime, yet."

"I know, but Daddy and I need to talk to you."

"'Kay."

Dwight has a seat next to me. I sit down, more rattled about telling Birdie than I was Dwight. I look over at him and he smoothes a hand over my back.

I look back to Birdie. "Birdie?"

"What, Mommy?"

"Um…" I smile at her, "Do you know where babies come from?"

She smiles sweetly. "Mommies' tummies."

"Yeah, that's right." I say warmly. I put the sonogram on the table and slide it her way. "Do you know what this is?"

She looks at it. "Um, a picture."

"Yeah, do you know what it's a picture of?"

"Um...no."

I smile, pointing to it. "This is a picture of the inside of my tummy," I put my finger on the center, "And that's a baby."

"A baby?"

"Yeah, a baby."

Her brows gather, she points to it. "That's a baby?"

"Yes, honey," Dwight says, putting his elbows on the table, "That's a baby."

"In Mommy's tummy?"

"Yeah," I nod my head, smiling still, "Mommy's gonna have a baby."

Birdie looks at me and her brows furrow more. "You having a baby?"

"Mhm," I nod again, "You're gonna be a big sister."

"A big sister?"

"Yeah," I clasp my hands together, "Are you...excited?"

Birdie doesn't say anything.

"Being a big sister will be great." Dwight tells her.

"Yeah,I know you'll be the best big sister."

Birdie twists her mouth to the side, as if trying to make sense or mull it over.

"What do you say?" I inquire. "You think you'll like have a baby brother or sister?"

She purses her lips. "Mm...Okay."

"Okay?" I ask, "Are you happy?"

She smiles. "Yeah."

"Okay," I nod, smiling back, "We're happy you're happy."

"Can I go play?"

"Sure."

Birdie gets up and goes back to the living room. I take a sigh of relief.

"See?" Dwight chuckles. "It wasn't that bad."

"No, you were right." I lean my head against him.

"Smooth sailing from here."

I smile, picking up the sonogram. "Yeah."

Dwight kisses my head.

"It's a boy."

"Harlan said it's too early to tell."

"I know, but I'm sure _that's_ a little boy." I point my pinky to a spot on the picture.

He chuckles. "That's a shadow."

"It is not."

"Well, it's not what you think it is."

Birdie comes running back in. "Mommy?"

We both look over. "Yeah, babe?"

"I changed my mind," She says, "I don't want you to have a baby."

Dwight and I glance at her in silence, before either of us can respond, she turns and leaves to go back to playing.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Sorry if I didn't get to any comments, questions, or concerns for the last chapter. I promise to be better at that in the near future!**

 **Anyone see the Season 10 trailer?**


	18. Chapter 18

_Herr God, Herr Lucifer_

 _Beware_

 _Beware._

 _Out of the ash_

 _I rise with my red hair_

 _And I eat men like air._

Huh. I slip my finger under the page, looking it over again. It's hard to makeout the words in the dark, so my eyes strain as I read.

A bird outside gets my attention. The sky is turning; it'll be light within a half hour. I set down the book, stretching and groaning as I get up.

I go to the window to get some fresh air. There's a small, cold breeze that comes in between the bars. I wish I had some coffee, but it won't come until seven with breakfast.

Three and a half fucking years and I still haven't learned to not wake up at five. I've always gotten up this early. Both my parents would get up this early for work and so I got up early for school.

Lucille used to say that was sad, especially since my folks didn't wake me up when they got up, I just learned to listen for 'em and when I did get up, they wouldn't even say good morning or whatever. They lived their own separate lives and except when I was made to answer them, so did I. Lucille said that was sad, too. She said a lot about my childhood was sad, which is why I'm such an asshole.

I smile. She'd always take that cheap shot when we'd argue. She knew it drove me up the fucking wall. Mostly because she had a near perfect childhood with parents who I could personally shove off a cliff, but who actually took the time and care into raising the kid they had.

At least I can safely say that my kid is being taken care of, wherever she is. I have full confidence in Nan. I don't have a choice, but I know she's a good mother. I remember the few, short days after Birdie was born that I had with her. I remember the fight and fury before our daughter was born. I know she's a good mother and that whatever kind of life Birdie's living, it's a good one.

…

I move when she moves. Her knee touches my leg. I'm close to the edge of the bed, forced to inch that way throughout the night. I shouldn't have gotten up to go to the bathroom.

The rooster crows for the third time and she shifts in her sleep again.

"D," She murmurs, before nudging me, "D."

"What?"

"Go close the window."

"The window's closed," I tell her, "The rooster's just loud."

"Well…" She doesn't finish whatever she was going to say. The rooster crows again and she inhales sharply. "Move, please, I have to pee."

"Get out the other way."

"I can't, Birdie's on the other side of me."

"Just move around her."

"It's too early for her to be up," She argues, "If I move her, she'll wake up and then she'll be up for good."

I exhale. "Fine."

I move out of bed and wait for her to get up. But she doesn't move a muscle.

"Are you gonna get up?"

"Yeah," She says, not moving, "Just give me a minute."

I run my hand down my face, impatiently waiting for her to go to the bathroom. "Anna!"

"Alright, alright." She peels the covers off her and her round, pregnant belly. "Give me a second, would you? It takes me awhile to get up."

I offer her my hand and she takes it. She winces as she gets out of bed. "Your back still hurting?"

"Yeah," She nods, "It and Birdie kept me up all night."

She shuffles to the bathroom while I lay back down. I listen to the stream of urine as I try to go back to sleep. I also hear what sounds like her getting sick. The toilet flushes and the sink turns on. The floor creaks with footsteps. The closet door opens.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna go lay on the couch," She says, "It'll help my back."

I hear her tread down the hall. The rooster crows again and I get up. I walk to the living room where Nan's settling by the arm, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

"Go back to bed." She tells me as she drapes a blanket over herself.

I take a throw pillow from the couch. "Lift up your feet."

Nan lifts her feet, so I can slide the pillow under her feet. She rests her hands on her stomach. "Thank you."

I go around to the other side and sit next to her.

She puts some blanket over me. "You didn't have to come out here."

I lay my head on her shoulder, tucking my hands under my arms to keep them warm. "We gotta stop letting Birdie sleep in our bed."

"I know." She breathes with her eyes closed.

"You say that, but then when she asks, you let her."

"I know."

"You gotta be more firm."

Nan lets out a chuckle, nudging me with her knee. "Shut up."

"You can dish it out, but you can't take it?"

"I just feel bad for her."

"Why?"

"Because of how upset she was when we told her I was still gonna have a baby even though she changed her mind."

"Nan, that was months ago," I remind her, "She cried and got over it the next day."

"I know but I still feel guilty."

"Well, don't," I close my eyes, "She'll like having a sibling to pal around with." I yawn. "She'll talk their ear off, give us a break."

She laughs under her breath.

"She'll be fine."

"I know."

"You want an aspirin?"

She shifts in her seat. "No, the couch helps."

I pat her leg, resting my hand there as I start to fall back asleep.

"You're so nice," Nan puts her hand on mine, "Easily the nicest person I know."

I lock our fingers together.

"But I heard you call me Anna."

"Sorry."

"That's okay," She says, "I don't mind."

"Since when?"

Nan snickers. "I don't mind when we're not in public."

"Hm."

"It doesn't feel like you're scolding me like a child in private," She adds, "I actually sort of like it."

"Why is that?"

"Because you're so nice; I like it when you get a little not so nice with me."

I snicker, readjusting my head. "I'm not gonna be an asshole to you."

"I didn't say that, I said I like it when you get a little not so nice."

"You have issues."

We both chuckle. Nan moves my hand onto her belly. "The baby's kicking."

I smile, opening my eyes. "Jesus."

Her smile inches up brightly. "I told you they kick the hell out of me every morning."

"No kidding."

She chuckles. "It's a boy."

"You don't know that."

"It has to be," She says, "Birdie kicked, but never this much."

I scoff, humored. "That doesn't mean shit and you know it."

"I've got a feeling."

"Huh, okay."

"Oh, you're so damn sure?"

"I'm not, but I'm sure how much the baby kicks doesn't mean anything."

"Well, we'll see, won't we?"

"I guess so."

The two of us go quiet, falling back to sleep for the short time before Birdie wakes up.

…

"Shit, that's a tough one."

"So, you can't help me?"

"Well, now hold on, I didn't say that," I chuckle, looking up from the window, "Just give me a minute to think about it."

"Do you want me to read it again?"

"Sure."

"Lisa wants to take a train from Miami to Cleveland," She starts, "If Train A travels at 150 miles per hour and Train B travels at 130 miles per hour, which train should she take if she wants to reach her destination in six hours? Train A makes two thirty minute stops."

"How many hours is it from Florida to Ohio?" I ask her. "Better yet, how many miles?"

"I don't know, it doesn't say."

"Well, then how the hell are you supposed to do the damn problem, if it's missing information?"

"I don't know, that's why I came to ask you."

"Well…tell Eugene his genius is showing."

"Is that meant to be mean?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then I'm not gonna say that."

"Well, how fuckin' smart can he be, if he writes up fucking incomplete homework problems you can't figure out?"

"He's been busy," Judith defends with sass in her tone, "He's been working on a lot of projects."

"Well, then maybe he should give this one up to someone who has the time."

She closes her folder. "See ya."

"Hey, wait, don't go."

"I'll come back when you check your manners."

"Alright, I'm sorry," I call to her, "And I think I might know the answer."

"What?"

"Well, If I wanted to get someplace fast, I would want the fastest train."

"So, Train A?"

"No, hold your horses," I reply, "I'd want the fastest train, but not if it takes two stops that equal out to an hour stop. Train B might go twenty miles slower, but it keeps going."

"So, Train B?"

"If I'm wrong, then it's Eugene's fault."

She writes on her paper. "Thanks."

"Sure."

"Have you ever been on a train?"

"Yeah, a few times before the change."

"Where to?"

My smile fades. "To D.C."

"Was it fun?"

"No, it wasn't."

"Why not?"

"Because, I was taking my wife up there to meet with her specialist."

"Like a doctor?"

"Yeah, a neuro-oncologist."

"What kind of doctor is that?"

"A doctor that knows a lot about brain cancer."

"Sounds bad."

"It was," I look down, "We could have drove up there, but my wife said it was faster by train and she thought I wouldn't cry if I was in public."

"Did you cry?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Is that how she died? Cancer?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

A smile tips up and I lift my head. "What's the next problem?"

"There's not another one, I just needed help with that one."

"Oh, so, you're off then?"

"I think I should," She answers, "My mom and dad wouldn't like it if they saw me here."

"Yeah." I exhale, "See ya, kid."

"See ya."

"Oh, hey!"

"What?"

"I meant to ask you if you've seen Nan lately?"

"Birdie's mom?"

"Yeah, Birdie's mom."

She looks straight at me over her shoulder, curious. "Why?"

"Because she's a friend and I want to know."

Judith looks off in thought. "I think they were here a few weeks ago."

"They? Birdie was with her?"

"Yeah, and Dwight."

I roll my eyes. "He's a regular now, huh? Daryl pussied out on his word?"

"Language," She sharply warns, "And he only comes sometimes."

"Why not every time?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask."

"Smartass," I chuckle, "I meant that in a good way, by the way."

"I have to go," She gets up quickly, "I think I see my dad."

I move away from the window and go over to my bookshelf, sitting down on the ground beside it. I wait for Rick's inevitable entrance, since it's about time for lunch. Jude's right; if either him or Michonne caught us talking, they'd fucking lose their shit.

The door opens and lo and behold, Rick Grimes comes walking in with a tray.

"Afternoon."

He looks over, not amused, but then again when does he ever not got a stick up his ass.

"Looks like a mighty fine today outside."

"It is," He replies, walking over to the cell, "It's gonna be a good spring."

"I agree, from what I can see from my window," I watch him set the tray down, "How's Michonne? How far along is she now? Eight months?"

"Seven."

"I gotta admit, I'm excited," I grin wide, "You're an asshole, but you sure do make awesome kids."

Rick scoffs.

"You gonna watch me eat my sandwich?"

He looks me over, before turning to walk off.

"Speaking of bearers of awesome kids, have you heard from Miss Henricksson lately?"

Rick turns, confused. "Who?"

"Nan."

His brows raise. He shakes his head. "No, I haven't."

I poke my tongue in my cheek. "Really?"

"No, they haven't been down in awhile."

What a fucking liar. I glance down at my sandwich as I take a bite. "That doesn't concern you?"

"They can manage on their own."

"Yeah, but they've got a little girl out there with 'em. _My_ little girl."

"Trust me, Dwight and Nan know what they're doing."

"You're just kissing their asses because they saved yours."

"Believing in their competency to survive isn't kissing their asses," He retorts, "It's having faith in people, which is more than you've done."

I scoff. I really want to tell him I know he's lying about them not being here, but I can't because that would get Judith in trouble and I'm not gonna do that.

I bite into my sandwich. "Those are some good looking tomatoes you got out there."

"Some of your former people tend to them."

"Hard to believe, considering they had to leave Sanctuary because they couldn't hack it as farmers there."

I know they couldn't farm because of the ground, but I'm still bitter as hell that they all came running to these assholes instead relocating elsewhere as Saviors.

"Well, if you do hear from Nan Henricksson, tell her to stop by, will you?"

Why the fuck am I saying her last name all of the sudden? To prove I know it? To who? I sound like a fucking creep.

"I'm not sure that's her last name," Rick says, "At least not anymore."

I huff. "They're not married. They're just shacking up together."

"They're married now," He tells me, "Since November."

I glance up, furrowing my brows.

He looks me over. Ever since he recovered, he's been less cocky when he comes down here. Now he just looks at me like I'm a man instead of a monster and I don't know that I like it.

"Be done eating in an hour." He says before leaving.

"You'll tell her to stop by, if she comes?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you don't get to make requests to see Nan, or your daughter," Rick replies, "You know that."

"Come on, I'm really trying h-"

"Enough."

I scoff. "Jesus, Rick, what the fuck do I have to do or say to make you believe that I'm changing?"

He approaches the bars. "Listen, you may have Gabriel and Norah convinced you're trying to make amends and become a better person, but I know better."

I stare at him in disbelief.

He stares back. "I know you're just trying to talk your way into making us think you've changed, because you want us to let you out."

"Is that such a bad thing to consider?" I ask him. "That I genuinely want to change and be a part of the community and serve it?"

"This your part in the community," He retorts, pointing to the ground, "This is how you serve it."

I exhale irritably as I take another bite of my sandwich.

"They're happy."

"What?"

"Your daughter and Nan," Rick says, "They're happy where they are. With Dwight; as a family."

And just like that, I've lost my appetite and decent mood.

"I'll be back in an hour."

I watch him leave, sort of wishing he hadn't pulled through. When he's gone, I stare at the wall across from me.

Married? I didn't they'd ever marry. I really thought he was shacking up with her until Sherry came back. I guess after three years of waiting, he finally figured he'd settle with the two people that are too good for him.

I set the sandwich down and lean my head against the wall. She married him.

…

The sun's beating down, making the house feel like an oven. I started fixing up my grandpa's house a few weeks ago. It's a good redirect point and, hopefully with the repairs, a good safe spot in case things ever go south at home. There's a cellar in the middle of the house that my great grandfather built during prohibition

The fire caused a lot of damage, but some of the beams are still strong and unmarred. I've had to knock out two of the walls. I've thrown tarp in the bald spots until I can get to them. It makes the heat worse.

Early February, one of our barriers collapsed in the rain and let in about two dozen dead. Nan and I took care of them, but it got me thinking about what would happen if it were more and we had to flee. I mean, I guess we could go into the communities, but this is more of a quick solution, instead of a two hour away solution.

I put down my hammer and step outside for a smoke and some fresh air. I've been keeping the cigarettes here, so Nan won't find them at home. After she caught me back at the Sanctuary, it's not been so easy to hide it. And I don't want to smoke around her while she's pregnant.

Aside from the smoking, life's been pretty good. Being married hasn't changed the routine, but somehow things feel different. Better and I don't know why.

Her pregnancy has been good so far. She hasn't had any cramps like last time, just nausea and back pain, which are normal. We don't know if it's a boy or girl yet, because the baby's either been positioned wrong, or the machine was acting up. I joke that we're having another girl, because Nan really wants a boy, but it honestly doesn't matter to me.

Birdie didn't take it well when we told her that Nan was still going to have a baby, even though she changed her mind about being a big sister. She cried for about a week and now has gotten somewhat used to the idea, except for when she remembers that she has to share a room with the baby. She's demanded a little more attention, sometimes by arguing or doing something she's not supposed to do, but Nan said it's just a phase. I'm not concerned. I think she's worried it's genetic, however.

Two rotters wander out from the woods. I put my cigarette in my mouth and take the axe from the stump. A third one comes into sight by time I drive the axe into the first one's skull.

I take out the second one, shoving it down with my foot to pull the axe out. I push the third back with the handle and then ram the axe, killing it.

A few meters to the left, a few more come out, snarling. I walk over and take 'em all out. I take the cigarette from my mouth, blowing smoke. As I walk back to the house, I see a shadow behind the tarp on the house.

"You're fucking kidding me."

I walk more determined to get the rotter out of the house, pissed that I'll have to clean up the blood. The wind blows the tarp up a bit and the silhouette darts. I stop. What the fuck?

I move towards the side of the house, careful as I reach the corner. I pause, before checking around briefly. Nothing. I tread quietly as I move around the house. The tarp on the other side flows open with no one in sight.

I slip under the tarp and go inside the house. I look around. Nothing. I exit the house and scan my eyes out towards the woods. I see and hear nothing.

I head towards the woods. I walk a ways in, keeping footing as quiet as possible while I look for tracks and listen for the snapping of twigs or the crunch of pine needles. But a hundred feet in, I come up empty handed, so I turn around and walk back.

I'm losing it in this heat.

 **...**

"Inhale," He tells me, "Don't let the breath go."

I take a deep breath. My eyes are closed, trying to focus.

"When you exhale, let go of all the weight on your shoulders."

I exhale, letting my shoulders fall.

"Inhale."

I inhale.

"Let go of all the pain you hold inside you," He says next, "All the grief, all the anger, all the guilt."

I let go of the second deep breath.

"Let go of all the disquietude," He continues, "All the voices, all the thoughts, all the faces. Quiet them."

The sound of metal circling metal is supposed to relax me, but it just bothers me.

"Let go of all the-"

"Could you stop with the noise?" I ask him, opening my eyes. "Ever since I hit my head, my hearing's been all outta whack. I can't take the sharp ringing."

"Fine," Gabe puts down the bowl and tool,"We'll continue without it."

"Nah, fuck it," I tell him, sticking my finger in my ear, "You fucked up my ears. They're gonna be ringing for awhile now."

"You should have Siddiq take a look."

"I'll go over now."

He stares with his one eye, annoyed. "I meant, you could ask for him."

"I did and it's just a thing that happens when people start making weird ass, high-pitched sounds."

He rolls his eye.

I grin. "It's because of my cracked noggin." I didn't miss the irony there. "It might be long term, might not be."

"So, we're done for the day?"

I grin lowers a little. I look at my hands. "Guess so."

"Is there something else you'd like to talk about?"

"Nope." I ease myself onto my cot. "See ya next week."

"Alright, if that's what you want."

I stare up at the ceiling. "Did you marry Nan and Dwight?"

"Pardon?"

"Rick spilled the beans that my baby mama and my traitorous, two-faced ex-lieutenant got hitched," I elaborate, "That true?"

"I believe so, yes."

"And you officatied it?"

"No, I didn't."

"Well, then who did?"

"Why would I know that?"

"Someone had to."

"I think they just decided to be husband and wife."

"Oh, so they're not married married," I say, "They're playing house like always."

"If they say they're married, then they're married."

"What do you know, Gabe? You're a lonely virgin with one eye."

"Again, I can marry, if I choose to."

"Funny how you defend that and not the virgin comment." I smile as he sighs.

"You know, you could try being happy about this news."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because it's a step in the right direction," Gabe tells me, "You want Rick to see that you're genuinely working on changing, well, this is a good foot."

"I don't think Rick cares what my thoughts on the newlyweds are," I retort, "Or my efforts to change my ways. Pretty sure he thinks I'm just trying to bust out of here to go kill Dwight and take back my family."

"Well, maybe he wouldn't think that, if you made actual progress."

"How the fuck am I not making actual progress?" I sit up. "I've been a model ass inmate for months now. All I do is read, throw my ball against the wall, and water that plant Norah brought me."

"Because you're bored."

I roll my eyes.

"You do realize that Rick has some liking towards Nan?"

"Why because she saved his life?"

"No, because she forgave a man who made people's lives miserable," He argues, "A man who killed people with a baseball bat and laughed while he was doing it."

I shift my jaw, not at all that pleased to hear that yet again.

"A man who his son believed could change," Gabe adds, "So much so that his dying wish was to for Rick to let you live, if he could."

I glance down at my hands again.

"Nan is the only other person who wanted to see you alive," He goes on, "He sees Carl in her ability to forgive and belief that there is something salvageable in you."

I pick up my gaze.

"If you want him to believe what she believes, what Carl believed, then you need to be honest with yourself and admit that you have ulterior motives and then you have to decide to actually be a better person."

I shift my jaw.

"Same time next week."

"Yep."

…

"Lean your head back, please."

"Don't get it in my eyes."

"Close 'em."

Birdie closes her eyes and leans her head back. I dunk the cup in the tub and pour warm water over her shampoo sudded hair. I run my other hand through her hair that's gotten a little darker during the winter and hasn't changed back.

"Once more," I rinse her hair out, "There we go."

"I wanna wash your hair now."

"Maybe later," I stand up and reach for the towel, "Up."

"I wanna get dressed myself."

I wrap the towel around her and pick her up out of the bathtub. "Okay, dry your feet on the mat."

Birdie pats her feet against the bathmat, holding the towel to herself.

"Okay, go get dressed."

Birdie hurries out of the bathroom. She cackles as she drops the towel just at the doorway and goes running.

"Hey, put your towel back on!" I shout as I pull the plug. I leave the bathroom, picking up the towel, and going down the hall. "Birdie!"

I enter her bedroom and find her standing on her bed, naked.

"I'm naked, Mom!" She laughs.

"I see that," I reply, going to her drawers, "Come get dressed."

"No!" She leaps off her bed and runs out of the bedroom.

"Birdie!"

I sigh, following after her. My back's been hurting, so I go slow. I'm about six and a half months along, but I feel like I'm ready to pop any minute. I was convinced for awhile that I was carrying twins, because of how big I got so quickly as well as how much heavier I feel.

It's just one baby, but it's been a tough pregnancy. I've been sicker than a dog through most of it, my back hurts more, and having a toddler to chase after makes it twice as hard.

"Birdie, come back here now!"

"You can't catch me!" Birdie runs down the hall.

"Lucille!" I call, "You're gonna catch a cold."

"No, I won't!"

"Come on," I wave her over after finding her in the living room, "Now. You need to get dressed."

"No!" Birdie chuckles. "I don't want clothes on."

"Well, you have to."

"I don't want to."

"If you don't put on your clothes, we're not going outside to play."

"I can go outside naked."

"No, you can't," I argue as the front door opens, "Dwight?"

"Yeah?"

"Daddy!" Birdie hops off the couch and runs just past my grasp.

"Birdie!"

"Daddy, you're home!"

"Why are you naked?"

"Because she keeps running away, refusing to put clothes on." I answer, coming around the corner.

"I don't wanna put on clothes, Daddy."

"Well, you have to, so go get dressed."

"No!" Birdie turns to take off.

Dwight catches her, scooping her up under his arms like she's a piglet. "Not so fast!"

Birdie laughs out. "Let go of me!"

"You are gonna let your mom put clothes on you."

"No, I don't want to."

"Well, too bad," Dwight carries her down the hall, "You're not walking around naked."

I smile as I follow them with her bare butt in view.

"No, I wanna be naked!"

"No, come on," I say, "You just got big girl underwear. You need to wear them."

"Don't talk to me!" Birdie points her finger at me.

"Watch your mouth," Dwight sets her down, "And listen to your mother."

"No, I'm mad at her!"

"Why are you mad at me?"

"Because you won't let me be naked!"

I stifle an eye roll. "Well, then, I guess you'll have to be mad, because you have to get dressed."

"No!"

"Birdie."

"No!"

"Birdie," Dwight cuts in with a slight raise in his voice, "Now. Or you'll go to timeout."

"I don't want to go to timeout!" She argues with a rasp. Her eyes start to water.

"Well, then quit arguing and listen."

Birdie crosses her arms and puts out her lip.

I fish out some of her underwear and an outfit. She was still wearing cloth diapers up until recently, even though she's been potty trained for months. I learned how to sew and made her some underwear, so we could have the diapers for the baby when it comes.

"Okay, step into the leg holes."

Birdie stubbornly does so with a tear trailing down her cheek.

"Hey, why are you crying?" I brush the tear away. "It's not that bad. You put clothes on every day."

"Don't talk to me, please," Birdie rubs her eye, "I don't wanna talk to anyone right now."

"Okay." I put her shirt on.

After she's dressed, I ask if she wants to go outside to play, but she says no, so I leave her alone to sulk until she's ready to come out.

Dwight's in the garage, so I go out there. "What are you doing?"

"Packing more tools for my grandpa's house."

I nod. "When can we see it?"

"It's still a work in progress," He tells me, "But you can see it, if you want." He looks up. "Did she get dressed."

"Yeah, she's pouting in her room," I sit on the trunk, "I think you made her cry a little."

"Because I raised my voice?"

"Yeah," I shrug my shoulders, "But she'll be okay."

"I know."

I smile a little. "You going back out?"

"Yeah, it's still early." He closes up his toolbox. "Why? You need me to stay?"

"No, I don't need you to stay."

"You sure? Because I can make lunch, so you can get off your feet for a minute."

"Go fix your grandpa's house," I stand up from the trunk, "What was his name? You've never said."

"Samuel."

"Huh."

"Why?"

I shrug again. "Even if we don't know what we're having, we should still think of names."

Dwight nods, taking up his toolbox. "What about your grandpa? You said your grandparents were important to you, too."

"Yeah, but I like Samuel over Felix," My smile shies down, "Besides, it's your turn to pick the name."

"We're taking turns?" He chuckles.

"Well, you had no say the first time."

"Neither did you," He opens the door, "Not initially anyway."

I bite my lip. "I like Samuel. Sam for short."

"If we have a girl?"

"Mm, I like your mom's name."

"Mommy!"

"Yeah?"

"I wanna swing!

"Go get your shoes on."

"'Kay!"

"Never down for long."

"Nope."

Birdie comes back with her shoes. "Here, Daddy!"

"Daddy's going back to work."

"Aw!"

"I'll put your shoes on before I go."

"Thanks," Birdie goes to the living room, "Mommy, I want you to push me high."

"Okay, I'll push you high."

"You can't swing, because you can't fit," She tells me, "because you're too fat, 'cause you have a baby in your tummy."

"Thanks, Bird."

"Don't call your mom fat."

"She is fat," She puts her hand to her mouth as she giggles, "Like a cow."

"Go sit in timeout." Dwight nods to the chair in the corner.

"No, I'm sorry!" Birdie pleads. "I was being funny."

"No, you weren't. Go."

"You're mean!" Birdie cries, running over to the stool and sitting on top of it with a huff.

"You're not scoring any points today, are you?"

Dwight pecks my lips. "I'll be back before dinner."

"Okay."

"Keep her there for five."

I nod my head. "Be safe."

"I will," He points a finger at our daughter, "You be good and listen to your mother."

Birdie turns her nose up at him with a little _hmph!_

…

Birdie and I spend the afternoon outside. I pushed her on the swing for the longest time, even though my arms were burning like crazy. We picked some of our produce and some berries down by the bramble. Birdie ate most of the ones she picked.

We slept for an hour after lunch, went out to swing some more, and then I got out her tennis ball, which she'll throw and chase for hours. I know, I know, kids shouldn't throw balls in the house, but I also know if I let her outside that she won't stay in my sights. She hasn't broken anything yet. I had to get dinner started early.

"Mommy, what if the baby's mean?"

"The baby won't be mean."

"How do you know?"

"Because we're all nice, so the baby is gonna be nice, too."

"I'm not nice," Birdie tosses the ball against the cupboard, letting it roll back to where she's sitting on the kitchen floor, "I'm a brat."

"You are not a brat." I chuckle, cutting potatoes.

"Yeah, I am."

"No, you can be bratty at times, but you are not a brat."

"I don't wanna share my room."

"We talked about this, remember?" I check the timer for the fish. "The baby will sleep in Daddy and I's room for a little while, but when they get bigger, you are gonna have to share a room."

"No, I don't want to."

"It won't so bad, Birdie."

"No!" She throws the ball, rubbing her eye. "I don't want to."

"Don't cry, baby."

"I'm not crying!"

I put down my knife and wipe my hands down my apron. "Okay, come on."

I help Birdie up from the floor and sit her on a chair at the table. I sit down.

"Sharing your room isn't so bad," I dry her eyes, "I shared a room with my brother when I was little." I smile at her. "It was fun."

"It was?"

"Yeah, it's like having a sleepover every night," I pet her head, "And the baby won't have to worry about getting scared at night, because you'll be there."

"I get to make sure they aren't scared?"

"Yeah, of course," I smile, "You're a big sister; you get to make sure no one makes the baby cry."

"I'd be good at that."

"I know you will."

"But I don't want to share my room and toys."

"That's part of being a big sister, Bird, you be nice to the baby and share sometimes."

"I want my toys to be just mine."

"Sharing doesn't mean you don't have your own toys, it just means you sometimes let others play with them."

Birdie rubs her hand under his nose. "I'll think about it."

"You think about it," I kiss her forehead, wiping one more tear with my thumb, "I promise you are gonna like being a big sister and the baby is going to love you, because you are a terrific kid."

"I wanna help you make dinner."

"Okay." I go to the cupboards, get out a small bowl and a whisk from the drawer. "Here, stir this for me."

"There's no food in here!"

"Oh, you're too smart." I go to the pantry and get a few homemade crackers, "Here."

Birdie stirs the crackers round and around in the bowl.

I know it's gonna be a struggle when the baby does come. Birdie's an only child who loves being an only child. She's never once asked for a sibling like I had when I was her age. Dwight even wanted a brother or sister when he was a kid.

I turn on the sink to get the dish water started.

He says she'll be fine, that I worry too much, but I know my daughter and whether or not she likes the new baby, she's gonna melt not being the baby anymore. She's a ham, she loves attention and I don't think she's gonna handle not being in the center of it well.

"Look, Mommy!"

"Oh, good job."

"I'm very good at cooking."

"You are."

The front door opens.

"Daddy!" Birdie gets up and runs to the front room.

"Hey!" I call out over the water.

Birdie comes running back. She tugs at my apron. "Mommy, there's a lady here."

My grip on the knife tightens. I look down at her. "What?"

I glance toward the doorway and there stands a woman. My mouth parts.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **CLTex: Thank you! I think this chapter will be a sort of turning point in the story where Negan and Nan can perhaps really come to new understandings about one another.**

 **WritersBlock2018: Well, like Rick and Gabriel pointed out, Negan's motives may not be as wholesome as he's convinced himself of. I think he'll be very displeased when he eventually finds out Nan's pregnant since she's been on his mind a lot lately…*wink wink***

 **P.S. The poem at the beginning is an excerpt from "Lady Lazarus" by Slyvia Plath.**


	19. Chapter 19

We stare at one another for what seems like an eternity within a few short seconds. My eyes are directly on her face, which I haven't seen in ages and figured I never would again. And hers, which appear harrowed, are, I'm now realizing, locked on my round belly.

Birdie has a handful of my dress as she curiously and nervously stares at the stranger standing between the kitchen and the front of the house.

My hold on the knife relaxes a little, but not entirely. She's got a machete. "Uh, hi."

Sherry's eyes pick up to mine. Her face changes. "Hi."

She looks around the kitchen and towards the other archway that leads to the living room. Her lips part as if she was about to call out. But she refrains.

"He should be back soon."

Sherry blinks back to me and her brows slightly gather.

"Dwight," I awkwardly explain, "Um, he should be back any minute."

She brings her lips to a close and nods mechanically.

"Mommy." Birdie murmurs, looking up at me.

"It's okay." I brush a calming hand over her head, smiling.

When I return my gaze back over to Sherry, I see the discomfort and bashful embarrassment.

"Would you like to sit down?" I ask her.

Sherry nods, moving her eyes to the kitchen table. "Sure."

I watch her stick her huge machete into it's sheath, before going to the table. She goes to the place where Dwight usually sits and pulls out the chair, sitting down.

She clears her throat. "Could I have some water?"

I nod, putting the knife down beside the potatoes. I wipe my hands down my apron and open up the cupboard for a glass. With Birdie latched to my dress, I go to the sink and turn it on, filling the glass.

"Here you go."

Sherry offers a somewhat polite smile as she accepts the glass. "Thanks."

I smile back, just as uncomfortable.

"Mommy, I want a snack."

"Okay, let's get a snack." I go to the pantry with her on my heels. I get out some crackers I made a few days ago.

"I want an apple."

"Alright," I grab an apple from the bowl on the counter, "Get your cup."

Birdie grabs her sippy cup that's half-full of water from off the floor and follows me to the table. I sit her diagonally across from Sherry. I open the small jar of crackers and set it before her.

I glance over at Sherry. "Would you like anything? I just made some iced tea."

"No, thank you." Her eyes go back to Birdie.

I take the first bite of the apple and give it to Birdie. I sit down across the table. We meet eyes again and I smile gently. We're quiet for a moment.

She looks just about the same from what I can remember of her. She's a little dirty and so are her clothes. It's different from the clean, polished Sanctuary wife from before, but nothing out of the ordinary for someone who's been on the road. She's still very pretty.

I look at the clock on the wall. Dwight said he'd be home before dinner. Oh, shit. I forgot I was in the middle of making dinner.

I glance over at the potatoes on the counter. "Um," I clear my throat, "How long have you been in the area?"

"A few days," She replies with a hoarseness in her voice, "I was living in West Virginia for awhile."

"Alone?"

"Yeah," She nods her head, "I mean, I was with some people I met for awhile, but I decided to come back, because of…" Her eyes move from the table to me. "I wanted to come home."

I nod slightly, despite feeling totally mortified. I place my hand on my pregnancy, just a thing I do.

"What's your name?" Birdie asks her, crunching crackers.

Sherry looks to her and smiles. "I'm Sherry. What's your name?"

"Birdie."

"That's a lovely name."

"Say thank you."

"Thank you."

I smile at her. "Sherry used to live at The Sanctuary like we did."

"Oh," Birdie takes a smallish bite from the apple, "Here, you eat some."

"No, thanks, I'm not hungry."

"I…" Sherry pauses. I turn my head. She licks her lips. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember you."

"Oh."

She breathes out, as if frustrated with herself. "I, um, I'm sorry, I just, I...sort of kept to myself when I was there."

"Oh, it's alright," I assure her, "You wouldn't have known me. I also kept to myself a lot."

Until I killed someone by accident and slingshotted my life into the public eye. Negan's eye.

"I'm Nan."

Sherry smiles slightly. Her eyes look at the glass in her hand. I look at the clock again. Anytime would be great, Dwight.

"Mommy, I wanna color."

"Go get your book and crayons."

Birdie slides off the chair and runs into the living room where she had them last. I thought she'd stay there to color, but she brings her things in here. I suppose I should know better; even if she was a little apprehensive at first, most likely scared because she ran right to a stranger entering the house instead of her dad, but ultimately, Birdie likes people.

"Do you wanna color with me?"

"Not right now, baby."

"I'm not a baby," Birdie extends her arm past me, offering Sherry a crayon, "I'm a big girl."

Sherry smiles at her. "No, thank you," She shows her palms of her hands, "My hands are kind of dirty."

Birdie puts the crayon to paper. "I wear big girl panties."

"Birdie."

I don't know why she feels the need to share that with literally everyone she talks to. When I turn to Sherry, I catch her looking at my baby bump.

"So, you and Dwight are...together?"

"Um, yeah, we're together."

"How long have you and him been together?"

"About three and a half years."

She nods, still looking down. I peer down and see Dwight's mother's ring on my finger. I casually move it away from my belly, tucking hair behind my ear.

"We, uh, we moved out here after the war."

"So, it's true?" She says. "Negan's gone?"

I look at her. "Um, yeah, he's…he lost the war."

She nods. "Good."

I can't help but look at the clock once more.

…

Dinner tonight is fried catfish with mash potatoes and cornbread. It's like a fucking orgasm in my mouth. I've never had catfish, but fuck is it good. Norah really outdid herself.

Speaking of, she opens the door and walks in. "How do you like it?"

"If you cooked like this more, they'd have to make a bigger cell to put me in."

She smiles. "I'm glad you like it."

I see she's got a plate in her hand. "Put it in a doggy bag for me; I'll eat it for breakfast."

Norah looks down at the plate. "Oh, no, this is mine. But I'll put some leftovers aside for you."

I stop eating for a moment. She sits down on the chair and balances the plate on her lap. Next, she takes out a fork and cloth napkin.

"Am I amusing to you?"

"Not really, no," She picks up a piece of catfish, "Why?"

"Well, you're sitting here in front of my cell, eating dinner," I tell her, "I figured you were looking for dinner and a show."

"I cringe imagining what sort of show you'd put on."

I smirk. "So, you're not here to visit the zoo?"

"No," She simply says, "I decided not to eat alone."

At that, I furrow my brows. "You're here for company?"

"Yes."

I grin. "I knew you had the hots for me."

She rolls her eyes as she eats.

"Can't say I blame you."

"You've been complaining less about my food," Norah replies, "I enjoy being around people who enjoy my cooking."

"Well, it's a hell of a lot better than the shit you kept trying to make me eat before," I chuckle, "New recipe book?"

"No, I just stopped cooking like a chef and starting cooking like my mother."

"You were a chef?"

"Mhm," She scrapes up some potatoes with her fork, "I worked at a bistro in D.C."

"Well, sorry to say, but I couldn't fuckin' tell."

Norah huffs, smiling. "Maybe you don't have a sophisticated palette; Michonne loves my cooking."

"Or, maybe I'm not a pretentious asshole who pretends shit tastes better because it has a garnish on it," I chuckle, going back to my food, "But you're probably right; I was raised on take out and drive-thrus, so what the fuck would I know?"

"You're mother never cooked?"

"If it came in a can or a box, she did."

Norah nods. "My mother loved to cook. She owned a little diner where we're from."

"No shit?"

"Mhm," She nods her head, "It was on T.V. once. One of those hidden treasure food spot type of shows."

"My wife loved those shows."

"Who didn't?" Norah chews.

"So, how come you didn't work at the family restaurant."

"Oh, because I went to culinary school and thought I was hot shit and above making chicken and waffles."

"I'd eat that, if you made it."

She smiles at me. "Did your wife like to cook?"

"She bitched about it, but yeah, she liked it," I snicker, "She was the one who taught me how to cook."

"Are you any good at it?"

"I'm decent," I tell her, "As cocky as I am, I wouldn't fuckin' challenge anyone to a cook off."

She chuckles and goes back to eating.

"Let me ask you something."

"What?"

"Do you think me wanting to turn shit around is only because I want out, so I can get my girls back?"

"Your girls?" Norah raises a brow. "You only have one daughter."

"I meant her and her mother."

"Well, when you phrase it the way that you did, one might think that."

"Do you?"

"I don't know," She bites into her cornbread, "I just bring you meals, man."

I glance back to my food, frustrated.

"What's the one thing you want more than anything right now?"

"To get the fuck out of here."

"Why?"

"Is that a trick question?" I scoff. "I'm in prison."

"I meant, what is that you have to look forward to out there?"

"Fresh air and the ability to do whatever the fuck I want, when I want."

"Okay," She dabs her mouth with the napkin, "Hypothetically, if you did ever get out, what's the first thing you would do."

"I'd go find my daughter, but I mean, that's fuckin' obvious, right? Who the fuck wouldn't do that?"

"I suppose that's fair."

"Why is that such a bad thing?" I put my hands out in question. "Why is it selfish to want to get out and live a nice, quiet life with my family?"

"I don't think any kind of life you live will be quiet," Norah teases, "And I think they have their own nice, quiet life with Dwight, honey."

I shift my jaw, glancing at my plate.

"That throws a wrench in things, doesn't it?"

I don't answer.

"Let me ask _you_ something."

"What?"

"If you could, would you build a life with her?"

I think about it. About the dream I've had where it seemed like that. Dreams are just dreams, though.

"What did you like about her?" Norah asks me.

"I took her for face value," I answer her, looking up, "I saw she was pretty and wanted to fuck her."

"There must have been something about her you liked more than wanting to have sex with her," She says, "You did spend time with her outside the bedroom, right?"

"Sure, but not with the intention of getting to know her," I lick my lip, "I...was sort of an asshole to my wives."

"You don't say?"

I scoff, humored a little at her tone. "I kind of just pestered the fuck out of them when I was bored."

"I can believe that," She says with a chuckle, "So, there was nothing about her? She was just another woman to use? Nothing stood out?"

"She was good in bed."

Norah groans.

"And...she talked to me," I add, "More than just whatever it took to get me out of her hair."

"What'd you talk about?"

"I don't know, nothing much, we just talked."

"Mm."

"I liked talking to her."

"Why?"

"I don't know, just did."

Norah looks me over.

I set my empty plate down. "Look, it doesn't matter, because it's the past. I'd like to have a relationship with my daughter. I don't think there's anything ulterior about that."

She nods, still observing me. She finally gets up. "I'll take the tray."

I slide it to her and she gathers it up. "Leaving?"

"I'm done with dinner," She smiles curtly at me, "I'll see ya in the morning."

"Chicken and waffles?"

She snickers. "We'll see."

"Night."

"Goodnight." She opens the door with the tray on her hip and leaves.

I get up from where I was sitting on the floor. I stretch and take a stroll to the window for some air.

…

I wash my hands with what's left in my canteen to make sure the smoke smell is off them. I smoked on the way home. I smell my clothes as well, before walking to the front door.

I open the door and go inside. "Hey!"

"Daddy!"

Birdie comes running in from the kitchen.

"Hey," I smile, picking her up, "Did you miss me?"

"Yeah, a very lot," Birdie wraps her arms around me, "Did you miss me when you were working?"

"Of course, I did."

"Aw."

"Dwight?" Nan calls.

"Hey, I'm home."

"Could you come in here, please?"

"What's your mom want, huh?" I peck Birdie's cheek as I carry her to the kitchen. "Am I in trouble?"

"We have a lady here."

"A lady?" I kiss her hand when she puts it to my mouth. I see Nan looking at me at the table. A woman sits across from her with her back to me. "Hey."

The woman turns her head...and my heart stops when we meet eyes. I stare in disbelief.

"Hey, D."

"Sherry?" I can hardly believe it.

"Yeah, it's me." She says.

I breathing huffs out. I set Birdie down.

Sherry slowly rises from her chair. She steps forward, unsure, before tearfully putting her arms around me, hugging me tightly.

I wrap my arms around her, feeling my ache. We both laugh. I can't believe she's alive.

"I thought you were-"

"Dead?"

"I…" I can't think. "I found your note, but you never came back."

"I went west for a while." She tells me, breaking the hug. "Is it true? Is Negan gone?"

"Yeah, he's…" I briefly look at Nan, "There was a war. Rick cut his throat."

"And you came here after?"

"Well, yeah, I…"

Nan stands up. "I'm gonna finish dinner." She looks over at me. "Why don't you sit and talk?"

Birdie takes my hand, tugging me along. "C'mon, Daddy."

"Birdie, come help me finish making dinner."

"'Kay." Birdie runs over to Nan.

I sit down where Nan was sitting. Sherry and I look at each other. Her nostrils sink in as she breathes.

"Daddy, we're making tatoes."

I glance over to Nan and Birdie. When I turn back to Sherry, I see she looked to. Her face changes again.

…

Nan finishes dinner twenty minutes after I sat down and sets the table while Sherry and I sit there, staring at one another. We both have a lot to say to one another, that's obvious, but neither of us says a word. Once dinner's on the table, everyone eats in silence.

It's tense. The sound of silverware clinking against plates never sounded so bad.

Sherry keeps her eyes on her plate. Nan keeps looking over at me every now and then. She smiles softly but she can't hide that she'd rather be elsewhere. Birdie just eats nonchalantly.

"Mommy, I want more tatoes."

"Okay," Nan sets her fork down, "I'll get you some."

She goes to get up, but I stand up. "I got it."

"No, it's fine, I can do it." She takes Birdie's plate and goes to the counter where the bowl of potatoes are.

"I want ketchup, please."

"You want ketchup for you dill potatoes?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Sherry clears her throat. "So, how old are you, Birdie?"

"Um, I'm three." She holds up three fingers. She finally got it right.

"Wow, three?" Sherry smiles at her. "That's a good age to be."

"Yeah," Birdie agrees, "I'm a big girl."

"You sure are."

"Here, baby."

Nan puts her plate down in front of her. She goes to walk back to her seat, but stops, holding onto the back of Birdie's chair.

"Oof!"

"You alright?"

She breathes, treading back to her seat. "Yeah, just a strong kick."

I watch her sit and so does Sherry.

"How far along are you?"

Nan looks over at Sherry. "Six and a half months."

Sherry nods. "Do you know what you're having?"

"Uh, no, not yet."

"Mommy has a baby in her tummy." Birdie chimes in.

Sherry smiles at Birdie and then goes back to pushing food around her plate. "So, when did you move back to the house?"

"A month or two after the war."

She nods her head. "And you've lived here ever since?"

"Yeah."

Sherry nods again.

Nan picks up her napkin and extends it to me. "Could you give wipe her face, please?"

I take the napkin, but Birdie protests. "No, Daddy, I can do it."

"Alright, here you go."

Sherry sets down her fork. "Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom."

"Oh, it's down the hall," Nan points out, "First on the right."

"I remember," Sherry replies, "Thanks."

She treads out through the living room and towards the hall. We listen to her footsteps and the bathroom door close.

Nan looks at me with a wince in her face.

"What?"

"I did forget she lived her before," She whispers, "Pregnancy brain. Sorry."

"Don't be."

"Why don't I take Birdie and let you and her talk alone for awhile?" She picks up her plate. "I can save the dishes for tomorrow. It's my day to make breakfast."

"Nan, you don't have to do that."

"I picked berries off that thorny bramble and spent hours making compote and jam," She rinses her plate in the sink, "I'll be damned if I'm not gonna make pancakes tomorrow."

"You know what I'm talking about."

She turns off the water, drying her plate with a rag. "I just think you two should talk in private."

"Okay, but-"

The toilet flushes and we stop talking.

"I'm gonna step out for some fresh air." Sherry informs us.

"Okay." I nod. I tap my finger on the table, before getting up. "I'll, uh, I'll go with you."

The two of us go out front. The night's a little chilly, so I grab my jacket.

Sherry digs into the pocket of the coat she didn't take off. She pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches. She puts a cigarette between her lips and strikes a match.

She waves the flame off the match and flicks it. She exhales the smoke and extends the pack.

I take one. "Let's go across the street."

"So…" Sherry takes a drag from her cigarette as we walk. "How did you meet Nan?"

"She used to make bread," I exhale smoke, "Negan put her on Daryl duty with me."

"Wait." She stops and looks at me. She points the fingers that hold her cigarette. "She's the girl who killed that Savior who attacked the woman who worked in the coops."

"Yeah."

"The one you were sleeping with?"

I scoff, taking a drag. "Yeah, she was the one I was seeing."

Sherry huffs, flicking ash. "I didn't recognize her."

"Well, she's the one."

She puts her cigarette to her mouth. "I used to be the one."

I look at her.

"You gave her Caroline's ring?" She furrows her brows, hurt.

I glance at the cigarette between my fingers. "You and I-"

"You and I lived in that house for ten years, Dwight," She cuts me off, "We scraped and saved every penny for the first three years of our marriage to buy it and then you just bring some other woman to live here?"

Her eyes shine with tears. "I..I thought you'd come find me."

"I did," I tell her, "But you were gone."

"I left you a note," She retorts, "And then I came back and when I saw you came, I left you another. I wanted you to come find me."

"I couldn't," I scoff, "If I had left, Negan would've known and sent people after us. I told him you were dead, so you could be free, because I knew what staying there was doing to you."

"Doing to me?" She nearly shouts. "I was fine. I could make it there. It was you that needed to get out."

"Then why'd you leave without me?"

"Because I didn't recognize you!" She says. "You changed, I didn't know if I could trust you and even if, I couldn't stand to look at you."

I stare, knitting my brows.

"Every time I saw your face, I was reminded that I'm the reason you are who you became and why you have those horrible scars."

I flick ash to the ground. "But you still wanted me to come find you?"

"Of course, I love you, D," She says with strain in her voice, "I wanted you to get away. I knew you could go back to who you were, if you'd just get away."

"Well, I did."

"With someone else."

"Yeah."

Sherry looks down. A tear streams down her face. "Do you love her?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Like you loved me?"

I peer over at her. I breathe through my nose.

Her eyes scan mine. "Did you really stay to keep Negan from coming after me, or did you stay because of her?"

"Sherry?" I exhale, "You married him."

"To save you!" She shouts. "He was gonna kill you, I had to do something!"

"I know, but-"

"Is that why?" She inquires. "Is that why you started screwing her?"

"Hey, don't-"

"To get back at me for marrying Negan?"

"No, I wasn't angry at you for that!"

"Then why?"

"Because…" I pause and look towards the house. "Because I knew Negan wanted her. And because I liked her."

"So, you slept with her to get back at Negan?"

"Yes, but no at the same time," I say, feeling like a scumbag, "The first time it happened she made the first move and I...wasn't thinking about Negan. Or you."

Sherry huffs. She drops her cigarette on the ground and storms off. She turns to head down the road.

"Where are you going?"

"What do you care?"

"You're leaving?" I ask, desperately.

"Leave me alone, Dwight." She treads without looking back.

"Sherry, wait." I start after her.

"I'll go," She says, "It was stupid of me to think I could just come back and you'd be here waiting for me. I see that now."

I sigh. "Sherry, stop."

"Leave me alone."

"You can't just leave."

"Sure I can," I She retorts, "Now, leave me the hell alone."

I stop as I watch her walk up the road towards the old Phillips' house.

 **...**

"Your hair is getting so long."

"I like it."

"I think you're due for a cut."

"No, I like my hair long, Mommy."

I gently comb through her tangles while she plays in the bath. "You look like a wild girl."

"I don't care, I like my hair."

"At least let me trim the ends," I say, "You can leave it long."

"Mm, okay."

"Thank goodness," I glide the comb down, "You're starting to look like Cousin It."

"Who's that?"

I smile. "No one."

"I wanna dress myself, Mom."

"Nice try," I chuckle, "I'm not falling for that again."

"I want to."

"You just wanna run around naked."

"No!" She laughs.

"Yeah."

The front door opens and closes.

"Daddy's home." Birdie says.

"Mhm." I run some homemade conditioner through her hair.

Footsteps come down the hall. "Hey."

I look over. "Hey. You weren't gone long."

"No." He comes into the bathroom.

"Is everything alright?" I ask Dwight. "Where's Sherry?"

He looks at his hands as he leans against the sink. "I think to the house down the road, but I don't know…"

I look him over. "You don't know?"

He shrugs. "She got mad and walked off."

I'd ask about what, but I think I guess. "Do you think she'll come back?"

"...I don't know."

I nod my head. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," He sits up on the counter, "I'm fine."

"Daddy, Mommy's gonna cut my hair off."

"Just the ends," I look back to her, "Don't make me out to be some witch."

Birdie giggles and goes back to playing with her shovel.

I smile and look back over to Dwight who's got a calm, humored smile. "I'm gonna rinse her hair and put her to bed."

"Alright."

Birdie fights me on getting dressed but eventually gives in when I promise to let her have hot chocolate with breakfast tomorrow. It doesn't take long for her to go down for bed, since I made sure she was active today. She fell asleep halfway through the story.

I hear the shower going when I go to the bedroom. I go into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

"Nan?"

"Yeah, it's me."

The water turns off. "Could you get me a towel?"

"Yeah," I go over to the closet and grab a towel, "Here."

"Thanks." His wet hand reaches out and takes it.

I brush my teeth as he pulls back the curtain with the towel around his waist. I want to ask more about Sherry, but after what he said had happened, I don't think he'll talk much about it.

I hand him his toothbrush as I put mine away. I wash my face and pat it dry. "I put your clothes away."

"Thanks."

I nod, undressing out of my sweaty clothes. I move past him to get in the shower. I take about five or ten minutes to shower, since I'm not washing my hair. I realize I also forgot my towel as I go to get out.

"Honey?"

"Yeah?"

"I need a towel!"

Dwight comes in with a fresh towel. "Here."

"Thank you." I wrap the towel around as much as I can. I huff, frustrated as I follow him to the bedroom. "Oh, we should just find a tarp or a circus tent for me to use as a towel."

Dwight snickers.

"I swear I wasn't this big last time."

"You look great."

"I'm huge," I retort, "Birdie's right, I am a cow."

"You are not a cow," He sits down on the bed, "You look beautiful."

I dig for something to wear to bed. "You're just being nice, because you did this to me."

"Not intentionality."

I scoff, letting out a chuckle.

"I mean it, you're beautiful."

I drape a T-shirt nightgown over me. "You don't think I look like a fat cow that would break our daughter's tire swing?"

"You can go swing on it right now."

"I don't think I'd fit."

"Yeah, you would, that tire's plenty big."

I look at him.

His eyes scan my face. "Oh. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that it's a big tire."

I laugh. "Uh-huh."

He stands up. "Get your shoes on."

"What?"

"Get your shoes." He says again.

I scoff, smiling. "Whatever."

He playfully takes my arm and pulls me closer.

"Stop." I chuckle.

"Come on," He laughs with me, "Get your shoes on."

"No, I'm in my nightgown," I cackle, "I'm not wearing a bra."

"So, get your jacket," He brings me to him, "Come on; it'll be fun."

I smile at him. I sigh, "Alright, fine. But if I get stuck-"

"You're not gonna get stuck."

"I better not, Dwight."

I put on my shoes and a jacket and tread quietly past Birdie's door with him. He closes the kitchen door a little too loud, so I shush him. The crickets chirp softly outside and the night's a little chilly, but fine.

Dwight steadies the tire swing. "Alright, one leg at a time."

"I don't know, Dwight," I look at it, apprehensive, "I don't think I can."

"Sure, you can," He says, "Birdie does it all the time."

"Yeah, because one of us lifts her up."

She's climbed up by herself," Dwight smiles, humored, "Come on, don't be a baby."

"Shut up."

"I got your back."

I walk closer to the tire, putting my hand on the top. I lift one of my legs and anxiously stick it through the hole. I lose my balance a little when the movement makes the tire go forward.

Dwight puts his hand on my back. "You got it."

I stick my other leg up and gasp under my breath when I tilt back.

"You're fine," He says, keeping me steady, "It's gonna tilt when you get in."

Is it sad to say, I've never actually swung on a tire swing before? All the ones in the city were just those kind with the weird flap that you sat your ass on.

"You in?"

"Yeah, I think so," I move my butt a little more towards the hollow inside of the tire, "I think the hard part will be getting out."

"Does it feel tight?"

"It's a little snug," I wiggle around, "But not on the baby."

"See?" He spins me until I face him. "Told you you'd fit."

I roll my eyes. "Alright, you can tell Birdie she was wrong. Now, help me out."

"You don't want to swing?"

I raise my brow and then smile. He turns me back around and begins to push me. I chuckle lightly as I'm gently swayed back and forth.

"I'm not too heavy, right?" I ask him as he continues to push me, "Your arms aren't burning?"

Dwight brings the swing to a gentle stop. "Would you stop? I told you you're not fat and you look great."

I smile.

"I don't wanna sound corny or anything, but you're glowing." He says to me. "So, you put on a little weight; you're pregnant, but even if you weren't, it wouldn't matter to me."

His corny compliment makes my eyes feel a little teary. Probably just hormones, but whatever.

"I love you, Nan."

I hear it in his voice. I want to ask, but I know Dwight. We're out here, because he doesn't want to talk about it. It's on his mind and he'll smooth it over and keep on by doing anything in his power to not think or talk about it.

We're both kind of like that, but we have different approaches to it. Dwight will just confront me when he knows I'm about to boil over, whereas I just let him come to me, because I know he will when wants to.

I look over at him. "Will you push me higher?"

"Yeah." He gives the swing a nice shove.

Dwight gets the swing going at a nice pace. I can't help but laugh each time he pushes me and I go flying up towards the night sky. I've quieted all the crickets with my laughter.

"Higher!"

"This is as high as I can get you." He chuckles. I cackle like a hyena, tilting my head back.

"Hey!"

As I come back down, I look to my left. Birdie's standing by the kitchen door.

"Hey, baby," I breathe, "Did we wake you up?"

"That's my swing!" She says with a scrunched up face. "You're gonna break it!"

"Am not," I tell her, chuckling, "I fit right in here."

"I wanna swing."

I almost tell her it's too late, but I'm in too good a mood. "Okay, help Daddy get me out."

"Are you stuck?" She pads over in her pajamas.

"No, she's not stuck," Dwight says, "Slide out that way, instead of backwards."

I put my feet on the ground and Dwight helps me by lifting the tire as I maneuver out. "That was fun."

"Told you."

"My turn!" Birdie pulls herself up and into the tire, laying on her belly

"Whoa, you can get up there yourself."

"Yeah," Birdie hangs on to the swing, "Push me."

"No, you gotta sit up in the swing." Dwight tells her.

"No, I can swing like this."

"No, remember you went face first the last time."

I look at him. "Is that why she had that scratch on her forehead?"

"She didn't cry."

"Oh, okay," I roll my eyes, "That's where my concern was. You told me she fell running by the coops."

Birdie turns herself around, so she can sit up. "Push me, Daddy."

"Alright, you ready?"

"Yeah!"

We take turns pushing Birdie for about half an hour. She laughs wildly which makes us laugh at all the fun she's having. She was tired, but would have fought us to stay up, if we hadn't bribed her with a cookie, which was my idea because I had a craving.

I've had a craving for molasses cookies almost throughout my whole pregnancy, which is maybe why I seem a little bigger. That, plus broccoli with barbecue sauce, which I've wanted on everything, swedish meatballs, and my grandma's sauerkraut recipe. I'm really licking my plate clean this pregnancy.

"Ugh, my nightgown is clinging to me," I complain as I unstick it from my sweaty body, "I need another shower." I take it off, tossing it on the floor with a yawn. "But I'm too tired."

I walk over to the bed, where Dwight's undressing. I kiss his cheek, before going to my side.

"What was that for?"

"A thanks for the fun." I lie down in our nice cool sheets.

He lies down next to me with an exhale. "I'm beat."

"Me, too." I murmur as I close my eyes. "I love you."

He leans over and kisses my cheek.

I open my eyes and smile sleepily at him, letting him peck me on the mouth. I tenderly brush back his hair with my hand.

He stares, lingering his eyes over me. He kisses me again, this time more longingly. Then again, before outstretching his arm over me.

I comb his hair with my fingers as he settles closer to me, grazing over his scars. I put my arms around him, holding him as we both slip into sleep. I feel his breathing get calmer, relieved.

…

"What's with all the fucking math problems about trains, and airplanes, and fucking steamboats?"

"Language."

"Sorry, but it's annoying as fuck," I complain, "Sorry."

"Because you can't figure them out?"

"No, I can figure them out, smartass; what I can't figure out is why the hell Eugene's giving you problems that don't matter."

"Why don't they matter?"

"Well, take this airplane problem for instance," I propose, "Have you ever seen an airplane?"

"Um, no."

"Do you think you ever will?"

She twists her mouth to the side."...No."

"See, so what the hell difference does it make?" I ask her. "Math is about solving real problems. None of this applies to you."

"I guess, but I can't just leave it blank."

"Then pick Plane C," I tell her, "Plane A and B are likely to crash into each other."

"Have you ever been on a plane?"

"Yes," I answer, "That's one thing I don't miss about the old world. I fucking hated flying."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like being up in the air in some big ass metal coffin with no control over my life."

"Is it that scary?"

"I didn't say I was scared."

"Well, you hated it because you didn't have control over your life," Judith points out, "That's fear, isn't it?"

I grin, chuckling. "Touché, kid."

"Where'd you go?"

"What?"

"When you went on airplanes?"

"Oh, just on vacations Lucille didn't wanna drive to."

"Did you go on vacation a lot?"

"Yeah, you could say that," I drink from my mug, "You can take a lot of vacations when you don't have kids to pay for."

"You didn't want any kids?"

I look into my cup. "No, we did, we just couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Just the hand we got dealt."

"But you liked kids?"

"I worked with kids, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to like them."

"Fair enough," I chuckle, "But, yeah, I liked kids."

She's quiet for a minute.

"You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm just packing up."

"Well, hey, don't you have other shit you need help with?"

"No, I got it."

"I know more than just math."

"I only want your help with math."

"Why only math?"

"Because math is just numbers," She says, "Numbers don't care if you're good or bad."

I smile and she takes off. What a kid. Hope mine turns out as badass as her.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **JaliceJelsa4eva: Yeah...they didn't change it, which is why Nan suggested it's Dwight's "turn" to pick the new baby's name. It'll come out more when Negan makes his way to their neck of the woods.**

 **Kara315: I know, if it wouldn't be completely boring, I think I could write Nan and Dwight all day long lol. I'm trying to decide if Negan's finding out should be by someone else, or by him discovering it when he sees Nan again. Sort of spirit crushing.**

 **CLTex: I swear, I don't leave cliffhangers to be funny lol! I just don't have time to write more than what I put out each week. Yeah, I sort of find small way to link Birdie and Negan as much as I can.**

 **AtlasNerd: Yeah, it was Sherry. We haven't seen the last of her. She's not gonna give up the past just yet...**


	20. Chapter 20

I close my eyes as I hold a pool of lukewarm water to my face. I breathe as it all trickles out from the sides and through my fingers. I do it again, for about the fourth time, not taking my hands away from my face right away. It feels good.

"You've got eighteen minutes."

I exhale, moving my hands down and opening my eyes. "You don't need to remind me of the time. I think I've pretty much mastered the twenty minute bath without you counting down for me."

Rick huffs quietly through his nose, staring at me with a plain face as he sits in the chair.

I want to say something smart, but I also kind of don't. As much as I like getting his goat, my regularly scheduled bathtime is my me time. I know, real fuckin' rich, considering I've got noting but me time all the fuckin' time.

Besides, I'm a tad bit worried I'll open my stupid mouth and let it slip that Jude's been coming to me for help with her homework. Or I'll say something to get on his bad side. Ever since his whole melodrama about blowing up the fucking bridge and getting washed down stream, Rick's been a real pal.

I'm fucking pulling your dick, of course. We're not friends and he's sure as shit not what I'd call friendly, but he's not thrown the fact that the world's getting on without me in my face in a hot minute. He also looks, nay, stares a lot which is creepy as shit, but it almost looks like it's with intrigue, so I'm not complaining. Anything that might get me an in to plead my case.

I can't pretend it's got nothing to do with Nan. I had heard from Judith that when her dad had found out that Maggie had come here to kill me and then paid Nan a visit while Birdie was here sick, Rick had turned around from heading home and went straight to Hilltop to chew her tight, vengeful ass out. Well, she didn't mention the part about Nan, because she didn't know about that, but I know about it and I know it's connected.

I don't know why Rick's so damn interested in her. I mean, I know what Gabe said about her reminding him of Carl, which I'm not a hundred percent sold on, but seriously; what's the fucking deal? He didn't know her until after the war. As far as I know, they don't hang out and braid each other's hair. She's no one to him, except perhaps a thorn in the ass that forces him to acknowledge that not everyone wants me dead and that I'm capable of forming somewhat decent relationships with people.

And I honestly have no fucking clue why it fucking keeps him up at night. I might have bashed in his friends' heads with a baseball bat, but is it really that fuckin' hard to believe that I was a regular fucking guy that could have sex with a woman who wanted to sleep with me and have a child?

I think he likes to pretend that Nan was chained to my bed or something. It's easy to believe that she was just serving her community by keeping daddy happy, but it's not fair and it's fucking inacurate. Nan wanted to have sex with me.

Part of why I always say Nan was good in bed is based on how she was when we were together. She touched me; she held me to her, encouraged me. Her hands roamed my body. Her fingers ran through my hair and she'd touched my face and would look at me to see me, before she'd kiss me. And she would kiss my cheek, which is something the other wives would never do. I didn't think anything of it until she did it.

"Fifteen minutes."

"Mind getting my back?"

Rick acts like it's unfathomable that a woman could want me. Could like me. Well, I don't know if she liked me then, which I get, but I'm pretty confident she likes me now.

I don't even know how I feel about her. I know I go on and on about how she was different than the others and how she's the mother of my child, but I don't fucking know. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm trying to admit shit to myself like Gabe suggested but I can't admit what I'm not sure about.

Sure, I've had those dreams, but dreams are just dreams. And yeah, I think about her when I'm practicing a little self care, but all that means is that I'm a dog.

I don't know about Nan. I don't know what I want from her other than to see my kid. She must be a hell of girl though, if she's bland as oatmeal and still gets people to take notice

"Eight minutes."

"No need," I reach for my towel, "I'm done."

Rick stands, waiting for me to get dressed, so he can cuff me to the bars and take out the tub.

"I could use a little more water," I say, "My plant's soil is a little dry."

"Talk to Norah when she comes in at one."

"You can't get me a little water?"

"Use some of your bath water."

"That's disgusting."

"Well, then you'll have to wait."

"Should I wait to ask someone else for maybe another plant?" I scoff. "Maybe an herb garden or something a little more challenging than a snake plant."

"An herb garden?"

"Yeah, or maybe some ivy," I button up my jumpsuit, "Although an ivy would probably make this place look sadder than it already is."

Rick scoffs, astounded that I'm talking about plants. I put my hands behind my back to the bars. He cuffs me and unlocks the cell door.

"How's the bun in Michonne's oven?" I ask to make small talk. "You know what you're having?"

"No." He says in a way that kind of seems like he does know, he just doesn't want to tell me.

I nod. "Is your middle child excited?"

"That's none of your concern."

I shift my jaw to the side. I know how she feels about the new baby. She told me. She's been asking me about Carl a lot, trying to get an idea about what older siblings are supposed to do.

Rick starts to pick up the prison suit that needs to be washed.

"Check the pockets."

He sifts through the pockets. He pulls out the folded paper.

"Set it on the bed." I say, protectively.

Rick looks at me. "What is this?"

"It's a drawing my daughter made," I tell him, "Right there on the bed's good."

He looks at it, as if he's contemplating opening it up. "Nan gave this to you?"

"Yeah, she did."

"When?"

"A while ago," I answer, "About the same time your people let the Widow walk right into the hospital where my daughter was."

"You told her about your daughter," Rick sharply says, "She never found out through me or anyone else here."

"She still was able to go right on into the hospital," I retort, "Your people, people who knew Birdie was mine, knew she was here and they let her come down here, knowing she was looking for revenge and then they let her go crowbar in hand to where my baby lay sick in bed." I see the look on his face. "What if something would have happened to her or Nan?"

"Maggie would have never harmed that girl."

I huff. "You believe that deep down in your balls?"

"I know Maggie."

"Then why did you go rip her a new asshole when you found out she was here?"

Rick's eyes look down. I got you, you arrogant prick. He sets Birdie's drawing on the end of my bed and continues to clear out.

I look him over as he works. I'll admit, I feel a little smug right now. I see I was right. My eyes blink to the folded paper on the bed. "You know, she drew that for me."

Rick briefly glances at me as he drags my tub out of the cell.

"Nan told me she had."

"Nan told her you were her real father?" He asks, skeptically.

"No, she thinks I'm some friend of Nan's in timeout," I smile, "Cute, huh?"

"Yeah, she is." He says under his breath.

"You know her?" I ask him. "Like personally? You been around her?"

"Yes."

"Do you like her?"

Rick pauses for a moment. He gives a curt nod. "She's a good kid."

I watch him. "She look like me?"

"She looks like her mother."

"So, she's a beauty."

"Why don't you ask Nan next time she comes?"

"'Cause I'm asking you."

I hear the water dump out onto the terrace as he pushes the tub on its side. He comes back to shut the cell door and lock it. He uncuffs me.

"Have you seen her recently?" I ask him. "I'm asking as a concerned parent. I haven't heard word in months."

"They're fine."

"You know for a fact?"

"Yes."

"Then why hasn't Nan come and seen me?"

"She's been busy."

"Busy with what?"

"Being a mother." He walks out and leaves.

I go to my bed, rubbing my sore wrists. I take up the drawing and look at it. I should get some tape or something and put it up on the wall.

I smile to myself. I got him to talk about Birdie and Nan without argument. Might have been because I made him feel a little guilty about the whole Maggie thing, but still. Baby steps.

 **...**

The water is bone cold on my hands as I turn on the sink. The tips of my fingers are nearly red from the frigid temperature while I wait for the water to heat up.

"Mommy, my hands are sticky!" Birdie runs up and plants both hands right on my pants and shirt.

"Bird," I sigh, inspecting my pajamas, "You got syrup all over me."

"I wanna wash my hands."

"Give the water a minute to heat up."

"No, you wait!" She points a stern finger at me.

"Are you getting mouthy with me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because, you wait for the water." She touches the same finger to me.

"I think you just like to argue for argument's sake."

"No, you!"

"You better watch it," I mildly warn her, "Or else I'm not gonna help you wash your hands."

"I wanna wash them."

"Well, then what do you say to me?"

"Sorry."

"Okay, go get your stool."

Birdie runs over to the pantry where her stool is.

Dwight comes into the kitchen from the bathroom. He starts to gather up the plates from off the table.

Birdie returns with her stool. She technically can't reach the water flow, but she likes using the stool as if she can.

"There, all clean," I set her back down on the stool, "Now, go play."

"I wanna help."

"It's too hard to hold you up right now, Pidge."

I've taken to calling her "Pigeon" or "Pidge" like Hal does, since she refuses to let us call her "baby."

"I wanna help, Mommy."

"Why don't you go play?"

"No, I wanna help!"

"Okay, I'll wash and you dry."

"'Kay."

I pick her up and set her on the counter. I hand her a rag. "Be very careful, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy."

"Good girl."

Dwight sets the plates in the other half of the sink.

"Thank you."

"I'll wash the dishes," He adds a little soap to the water, "You made breakfast."

"Birdie and I got it."

"You've had back pain all night and this morning," He touches the small of my back, "Go sit down."

"I'm fine," I tell him despite the low, non-stop ache in my back, "There's only a few dishes."

Dwight nods his head with a sigh. "I'll put away what Birdie dries."

He grabs another rag, since Birdie will surely pass a rag over the dishes once or twice and deem them as dry.

The three of us start the assembly line of washing dishes.

"Any extra pancakes?"

"Yeah, you made a lot."

I nod. "I made a little extra batter."

"Yeah."

I glance over at him. "Why don't you go see if she wants them?"

Dwight pauses. "Sherry?"

"Yeah," I shyly say, "You said she might have gone to the house down the road, right?"

"Yeah…" He dries off a plate and sticks it in the cabinet. "Maybe."

"Well, why don't you go see? Take some pancakes; she might be hungry."

"I don't know," He exhales, "She was pretty mad last night. She might not want company."

I unplug the sink and let the water drain. "Alright, I'll get dressed and go over."

"What?"

"Birdie needs a bath," I dry my hands on the rag she has, "I'll only be a few minutes."

"No, I'll...I'll go," He sighs again, closing the cabinet, "Just...pack it up and I'll take it to her. If she's there."

I look at him. "I can go, if-"

"No, I'll go."

I keep my eyes on him. "Okay."

"All done?"

I smile at Birdie. "Yeah, we're all done."

"Good job," She puts up her fist, "Pound it."

"Alright, pound it," I pound it and help her down, "You ready for a bath?"

"Later."

"Later?"

"Yeah, at bedtime."

"Alright, we can wait until bathtime, but let me wipe your face."

"I can do it myself."

I wet a rag with warm water and hand it to her. "Get behind your ears, little miss I-can-do-it-myself."

"I'm a big girl, Mom."

"I know, you never let me forget." I smile, before watching Dwight leave the room.

I put the pancakes on a plate that's a random, stand alone one that I won't care if I don't get it back. After putting wrap over it, I spoon some compote and syrup in small jars. I pack those with a fork and butterknife in a basket. Right as I'm contemplating whether or not to pack coffee, I catch sight of Birdie standing on the coffee table from the corner of my eye.

"Hey, get down from there!"

Before I can tell her not to jump off, Birdie takes a great leap from the table onto the couch, crashing against the cushions and the throw pillows with a laugh.

"Don't do that again, do you hear me?" I scold her. "You can get really hurt."

"No, I jumped on the pillows."

"Don't do it again."

"I'm having fun."

"What did I just say?"

"Don't talk to me."

"Birdie."

"Stop it!"

"Go sit in timeout."

"No, I don't want to." She slides off the couch and goes running out of the living room and down the hall.

She expects me to chase after her. She's run to either her room, the bathroom, or Dwight and I's room to hide in waiting. She thinks it's funny and will somehow get her out of the trouble. I've learned that it's actually better not to chase after her, because then she'll come out and come find me. That, and my back is killing me and I don't have the energy to go after her.

Dwight comes back in, sticking something in the front pocket of his shirt. "She's hiding under our bed."

"Okay," I go back to the kitchen, "I packed everything up for you to take."

"Thanks." He says with a hint of ingratitude.

I look at him. "I can take it, if you don't want to, Dwight."

"I said I'll take it."

I twist my mouth. "Well...you're acting like you'd rather take a bullet."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay," I hand him the basket, "Here you go."

He looks at the basket, somewhat hesitant. He takes it. "I'll be back."

"Okay."

Birdie comes into the kitchen, getting both our attentions. "Hey, you didn't come chase me."

"No, I didn't," I say to her, "You were being rude and ran off when I asked you to listen to me."

"I want you to chase me, Mommy."

"I'm not gonna paly with you, when you're not minding me."

Birdie walks into the living room and sits down on the little chair in timeout with her arms crossed and her face pouty.

Dwight looks at her, then me.

"We'll be fine here."

He huffs with a small smile, before turning to leave.

As the door closes, I look over at Birdie. "Are you ready to behave?"

"Yeah."

"What do you say?"

"I'm sorry."

I nod. "Alright, let's get dressed and go pick some vegetables."

"I wanna get the carrots." Birdie follows me down the hall.

"Alright, you can pull the carrots."

She likes that the carrots have to be pulled out of the ground. I like the help, since it's hard on my back to be bent over the garden.

It's already warm this morning, so I put her in some shorts and a kid's sized Lorelei's t-shirt. The truck fires up and from the bedroom window, I can see him pull away as I slip on my dress.

"I wanna pull a lot of carrots." Birdie tells me.

"Just what we need, Bird."

"We need a lot."

I pluck some green beans. "I'll tell you when."

I let her take over the beans after she's pulled enough carrots. I had back problems with Birdie, but it feels worse with this baby. I move on to watering, letting my little helper get all the stuff I'd have to stoop down to get.

I take a glance at my pathetic lemon tree. It's never died, but it hasn't ever produced a lemon. It's the one thing I planted without Dwight's help. It's leaves are green and it's getting tall, but nothing. Dwight said to just keep watering it and it'll eventually grow lemons, but I think he's just being nice.

I hope she's there and that things go better than last night. I don't know what was said, but I know it bothered him more than he'll admit. I think he feels like he has to keep it from me, because it's his ex-wife.

"Ow!"

I look over at Birdie. "What happened?"

"My finger!" She holds up her finger. A trickle of blood flows down.

"Oh, did you prick your finger?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, let's go clean it."

…

I drive down the road slow enough that I can smoke. My finger taps on the car door as it rests out the window. The house is only about a mile or two down the road, but I'm dragging it out.

I almost turn the truck around and go home. Tell Nan she wasn't there. But I'd like to see if she is. She is my wife after all. Was... _was_ my wife.

When I pull up to the house, I get that odd feeling of déjà vu. I take a look at the house, which looks empty. I take the basket Nan packed and get out.

I walk up with caution. There's no car outside, or movement by the windows. I go up on the porch and almost knock, before I just open the door.

The front of the house is empty. My eyes trail up the stairs.

I hear some noise coming from down the hall, so I tread in that direction. In what would be the living room, I find her putting things into a large pack.

"Hey."

She peers over from the side of her eye as she packs. "How'd you know I was here?"

"Lucky guess."

Sherry glances at the basket in my hand. "What's that?"

"Breakfast," I walk over and drop it on the coffee table, "Nan packed it for you."

"I ate already."

I note the two empty cans of chili on the table. "Are you leaving?"

"Might as well," She says coldly, "There's nothing keeping me here."

"Where to?"

"Don't know," Sherry shrugs, "But don't worry about it. I'll be fine wherever I go."

"So, this is goodbye? Again."

"Guess so."

I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Sher, come on, don't do this. Don't take off again."

"Why not?" She gives me a hard look. "There's no reason for me to stick around." She glances me over. "Not anymore."

"You ran off," I remind her, "Without me. You've been gone for nearly four years. I don't know what you wanted me to do."

She scoffs. She doesn't say it, but I know what she's thinking.

"Yeah, well, I couldn't do that and you know it."

"We were two people; Negan let an entire community disappear in the night," She argues, "And we didn't take anything this time. We could have gotten away. Last time, we...we got scared and went back. We wouldn't have done that again."

"You said you were afraid I'd take you back," I say gruffly, "Or kill you."

"I know and I'm sorry I said that." Sherry's voice goes hoarse. "I just...I had to change a lot to fit the mold when I was there." She resumes packing. "I saw you change, too, because you had to. I know the things you did, Negan told me, and I knew it was my fault because I made you go back."

I huff. "Which is it? Did you want me to come after you, or not?"

Sherry looks at me with a sad look on her face. "I love you, Dwight. Of course I wanted us to be together, but…"

"But what?" I ask, a little callous.

"I was afraid you'd spend the rest of your life hating me and I couldn't ask you not to. I was scared that we'd be living in silence and resentment."

I stare. Tears pool in her eyes. I sigh, looking off. "I never blamed you for what happened."

"It was my idea to run off with Tina," She reminds me, "And my idea to run back when she died. We could have gone with Daryl."

"No, if we had gone with him to Alexandria, Negan would've found us there," I look at my hands, "It was better that we went back than for him to find us there. He would've killed us both."

"So, you don't think we were wrong to go back?"

"No."

Sherry wipes a tear from her face.

"And I don't hate you."

She nods her head, emotional. She meets my gaze. "Do you still love me?"

I search her eyes. "Yeah, I do."

She smiles sullenly. "If you could go back and do things differently, would you?"

"No."

Her brows furrow. "No?"

"No," I shake my head, "I regret a lot of things I've done, but not where it got me."

Her eyes start to change again. She nods, wiping her face. "I need to head out."

"Where will you go?"

"I said not to worry."

"Yeah, well, you don't get to say that after what you pulled last time," I retort, "Head east. There's people there; you'd be welcome by any of them, I'm sure of it."

She brushes a strand of hair from her face. "I'm used to being alone."

"Well, you don't have to distrust people anymore. Things are different now."

Sherry looks at me, glancing me over. "Yeah, they sure are."

I look her over. "You won't disappear again, right?"

She doesn't say.

"Look, I know you're mad, but don't that to me again. Promise me you won't."

"D, I-"

"Not a day went by that didn't think about you," I tell her, "If I hadn't had a wife and a baby to look after, I would have searched for as long as it took to find you."

She picks up her gaze.

"Promise me."

Sherry's nostrils flare as she breathes. She nods. "Okay."

I nod back. "I've gotta go; I'm fixing up Sam's cabin."

"I know."

I look up. "It was you there yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"...Why did you run?"

She shrugs. "You had an axe and were coming towards me. I didn't know...who you were."

I nod again. She knew who I was. What she meant was that she wasn't sure who I had become. She was afraid of me.

"I have to go."

"Okay."

I leave the house, closing the door behind me. As I walk off the porch, I fish out a cigarette from my pocket and strike up a match.

I get back in the truck and drive back down the road to home. My eyes focus on the road, although I'm not sure if I'm actually paying attention as I drive.

She said she wanted me to get away, but I'm not so sure she did. I don't even know why she came back. She's unsure of me, I can tell.

I almost drive past the house, but I hear Birdie's laugh and snap out of my daze. I park and then put the cigarette out, before heading around back.

Nan and Birdie are in the back. Nan's lightly twirling the tire swing with Birdie on it, letting it go so that Birdie with slowly spin.

Birdie laughs, hanging on. "Faster!"

"You just had breakfast," Nan smiles, "If I spin you faster, you'll get sick."

"No, I won't."

"One more time," She tells her, "Mommy's gotta get back to work."

"You don't have any work."

"Sure, I do," Nan spins the tire, "It's dusting day."

"I like dusting."

"That makes us one of us."

Birdie spots me and her face lights up. "Daddy!"

I smile. "Hey, Bird."

Nan's gaze is plain, but curious. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Was she there?"

"Yeah, she was."

She watches me. "And?"

"And…" I put my hand on the tire to still it, "I don't know. She might leave, she might not."

She nods. "Are you going to your Grandpa's house today?"

"No, Daddy, stay here." Birdie says in the swing.

"Stay here?" I look down at her. "You want me to blow off work?"

"Yeah."

My smile comes back. "If I stay, I've gotta help Mom out before we can play. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Alright," I help her out of the tire, "What's next on the list?"

"It's dusting day." Nan says.

"That's it?"

"And I need to patch up some of her clothes and do a little laundry."

"I can do the laundry."

"I can do it."

"Let me do it."

"I'm not incapable of doing my everyday set of chores."

"I know," I let Birdie climb around to my back, "But if your back's hurting then you shouldn't be over a washboard."

"It's nothing," She gently lies, "It's just your child I'm carrying weighing me down."

"Are you trying to guilt trip me?"

She smiles. "A little bit."

"Yeah, nice try," I retort, "She's just as much yours as she is mine."

"Stop," She chuckles, giving me a little push on the arm, "We're having a boy."

"We'll see."

Nan laughs a little. "Birdie's got to pick up after herself around the house."

"I don't want to do chores." Birdie complains.

…

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Am I going crazy, or do I hear a dog barking every now and gain?"

"That's Dog," Judith tells me, "Daryl found him roaming the woods."

"And it hadn't gone feral or rabid?"

"No, Dog's a good boy."

"Huh," I nod, "Figures a man who lives like a dog would find companionship in one."

"What do you mean?"

"Daryl," I say, reading the last half of _Pride and Prejudice_ , "The day I met that asshole, I knew he was primal. Like a feral dog brought in from the cold."

"That's not true."

"Sure it is," I mildly argue, "If there's two things I know like the back of my hand, it's people and dogs. Probably because they aren't that different from one another."

"You're wrong," Jude's voice turns sharp, "People are good, if you give them the chance. So are dogs."

I scoff. "You're young, little lady; you still got a hopeful eye for the world. Wait 'til it deals you a shit hand."

"You're in a cell, asshole," Judith retorts back, "Of course, you see it that way."

"Language."

"You've said worse."

I grin, chuckling. "I'm in this cell because I trusted people. Trusted your dad, even if for like a split second before he cut my throat."

"You're in jail, because you killed people."

"Fair enough, but I winded up in this cell because I let my guard down with your old man, who everyone thinks is golden."

"Whatever."

"Let me tell you something. When I was about your age, I used to bring home stray dogs and keep them in our backyard. My mother would go apeshit everytime I brought a new one home."

"Why?" She asks innocently. "You were doing something good, weren't you?"

"Yeah, well, I thought so," I reply, "But truth is, we really couldn't afford to feed 'em."

"Then why did you bring them home?"

"Because every single dog I ever found acted so damn grateful when I'd show them the slightest bit of kindness," I glance up through the bars, "Like they never knew it before."

I feel a nostalgic pull on the old heart strings I thought had long been cut. I snap out of it.

"Anyway, this one day, I brought home another dog. He wagged his tail and licked my hand same as all the rest, but when I went out to feed them, he killed all the others over the food. Even took off a part of my mom's ear when she tried to stop him. Man, did I get it that night after my dad shot the dog."

"You mean he hit you?"

"Yep."

"You were just a kid," She says, "You didn't know."

"Yeah, well, I wisened my ass up," I tell her, "I never brought home another dog."

"That's a sad story."

"Nah."

"What does it have to do with people?"

I shrug, even though she can't see me. "People are the same way. They act good, but they can turn just like that when they're hungry."

"What about you?"

"You know my story," I go back to reading, "I put it all out there."

"No, I mean, what about you trying to be good?" She inquires.

"What about it?"

"Aren't you trying to be good because you were bad before?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, you want my mom and dad and everyone else to trust you and give you a chance, but then you say people aren't good and we can't trust them."

I lower my eyes past the page. Shit, I hadn't thought about that. I always like to think I'm the exception when really I'm the prime example most of the time.

"Does that mean you'll always be bad?"

I think about it. "I don't know. Guess so."

"That's too bad."

"You leaving?"

"Yeah."

I nod my head. "See ya, kid."

"Just so you know," She calls, "I don't think you're a bad dog."

A smile etches across my face.

"Judith?"

I look out the window and see Michonne. Fuck. She looks my way and we meet eyes.

I duck down and hurry over to my bookshelf. The door flies open not a minute later.

"What were you doing by the window?"

I look up from my book as if I hadn't been there. "Pardon?"

"Don't bullshit me," She scornfully replies, "What were you doing by the window?"

"It's stuffy in here, I was getting some fresh air," I tell her, "Is that not allowed?"

"Were you talking to my daughter?"

"Why would I be talking to your daughter?" I huff. "You've probably filled her head with scary stories about me, same as all the other kids. I'm a fuckin' boogeyman; it's a dare to come up to that window that nobody takes."

Michonne's eyes pierce mine as she scans my face for deceit.

"Might want to simmer down, it's not good for the baby," I say to her, "Trust me, I know how that goes."

She scoffs through her nose. She points to the window. "That window is being shut and locked."

I scoff back. "Oh, come on, you don't have to do that."

"It's done." She storms out, slamming the door behind her.

I exhale. She shuts the window. Fuck me. I look over to the wall where Birdie's drawing is taped. I'm a fucking idiot. I can kiss my chances of getting out of here goodbye. Once Rick finds out, I'm stuck here for good.

…

"Are you okay?"

"Hm?"

"I asked if you were okay," Nan says, brushing her hair by the dresser, "You're just staring at the floor."

"Yeah, I'm just tired."

She nods, setting down the brush. "I'm gonna get a cookie. Do you want one?"

"No, I'm good."

Nan disappears out of the bedroom.

I look at my watch and then back to looking off. She never came by after we talked this morning. I tap my finger against the bed, before glancing over to the drawer of my nightstand. I pull it out and see the two rings sitting there.

She promised not to go off again. I know we're not married anymore, but that doesn't mean I want her to vanish like she did the last time. I should've known better than to trust her word. She's been out there in her own. People change When they're alone.

The clank of a porcelain jar getting back it's top draws my attention. I walk to the kitchen, where Nan is leaning against the counter with one bitten cookie in one hand and two in the other. She looks at me as she chews, wondering why I'm here.

"What's up?"

I shake my head. "Nothing," I go to the fridge, "You want some milk to wash those down?"

"Please."

I pour a glass of milk.

"Thank you." She chews. She takes a sip of the milk. "You want one?"

"No."

"Good, because I got them out for myself."

I scoff and she chuckles as she chews.

She puts her hand to her belly. "Don't you start up. We're going to bed."

I look over and smile. She's cute.

"Maybe we are having a girl," She says, "Boys aren't cruel to their mothers."

I snicker. "Does it really hurt that bad?"

"A little bit," She holds her belly as she snacks, "Not too bad, it's just constant. You wanna feel?"

"Sure." I reach over and place my hand on her stomach."

"Oh," She looks down, "They stopped. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I say, "I'm just glad I get to be here through it all this time."

"Yeah, me too," Nan smiles, "I've never had it so easy."

I smile into a laugh that melds into hers. I lean over and peck her lips.

"If I am getting fat, it's because you don't let me lift a finger."

"That's not true."

"You wake earlier than me some mornings and do my chores for me."

"I always wake up before you," I turn to face her, "And shoot me for doing nice things for my pregnant wife."

"Bang, bang."

She lets me kiss her again. She chuckles as I move closer to her, putting my hands on both sides of the counter. When I deepen the kiss, touching her back, she breaks it. She looks me over.

"What?"

"You seem a little excited."

"What?" I repeat.

Her eyes scan mine, perplexed. "That kiss was a little frisky."

"So?"

"We...haven't had sex in months. Not since I got bigger."

"Oh, well, it's not because you got bigger."

"I know, it's because you don't want to feel like an asshole."

"So, do you not want to, then?"

"No, no," She takes the breath out of me with an eager kiss, "I do. Let's go bed."

I take her hand and we hurry as quickly as we can to our room.

"Help me, get this dress off."

I unbutton the top and l lift the dress with her over her head. I unhook her bra for her once the dress is off. As she's pulling it off, a slamming sound comes from outside.

We both look. I roll my eyes and groan. "The screen door." I tread out of our room.

"Make sure it didn't wake Birdie." She softly calls.

I go to the kitchen, open up the kitchen door, and bring the screen door to a close. I glance out the window into the darkness for a moment, before locking the kitchen door like always.

On my way back, I check on Birdie. Sound asleep.

"She's still asleep, if you…"

Nan's standing on my side of the bed, by my nightstand with the open drawer. Her prying eyes look up and find mine.

My mouth is open, but I don't know what to say.

Her eyes draw down. "My stomach's a little upset. I think I'm just gonna go to bed."

"Nan, it's not what...I was just reminded that those were there."

She nods her head as she walks to the dresser. She slips a nightgown over her body.

"Nan."

"I'm just tired, Dwight," She meekly says, "That's all."

I go to say something, but I end up sighing. "Okay."

Nan goes over to her side of the bed and lays down on her side. She clicks off her lamp. "Goodnight."

Her light was the only on, so when she turns it off, I'm standing there in the dark.

…

The next morning, I wake up like I always do while Nan and Birdie, who crawled in our bed last night, are still sleeping. Harlan told Nan her blood pressure goes up easily when she's pregnant, so since she can't have caffeine, she's been living off this decaf earl grey for the past few months. I brew some hot water for her.

I could kick myself for leaving that drawer open. It was nothing, really. I just remembered Sherry and I's rings were in the drawer and I took a look. It was just that.

But, I didn't say anything, or didn't say what maybe I should have. I'm an idiot sometimes, I fucking swear.

Before the water has time to whistle, Nan comes shuffling into the kitchen.

"Hey," I greet off guard, "Good morning."

"Morning." She says with a groggy voice as she rubs her eye.

"I'm making you some tea now."

"Thank you." She yawns, padding into the living room with a blanket over her arm. She sits and puts the blanket over her. Her eyes close as she gets comfortable.

I make the tea and add a dash of milk and sugar. I set it on the table beside her.

"Thank you." She says with her eyes closed.

I nod. "You want anything to tide you over until breakfast?"

"No."

"We still have some of that cream cheese you made the other day."

Her eyes open with a furrow. "And crackers?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe with some of that mango habanero jam Jerry made."

"Okay."

I don't know if that's a good combination, but I've found out Nan will eat anything with anything while pregnant. She's put barbeque sauce on damn near everything you can think of that normally barbecue sauce would go on.

"Here."

She accepts the sleeve of crackers, the jam, and cream cheese with her eyebrows still knitted.

I look at my watch. "I've got about thirty minutes before Birdie wakes up."

She nods.

"Mind if I sit with you?"

Nan nods again, before tearing into a fresh sleeve of crackers.

I sit down beside her. I rub my hands together. "Did you sleep okay?"

She spreads cream cheese and jam on a cracker. "Birdie stayed on your side, so it was nice not having her feet in my back."

I smile a little. "Um, Nan about last night."

She chews, dropping crumbs on her baby bump as she listens.

"I know it seemed-"

A little knock on the door cuts me off. The both of us look that way. Nan looks back and I get up. I open up and, to my surprise, Sherry's standing there on the porch.

"Hey, D."

"Hey," I greet back, "You're still here."

She smiles. "Well, yeah. Disappointed?"

"No, I...we didn't hear from you after yesterday, I thought you took off."

"Well, I didn't," She tucks some hair behind her ear, "But I, um, think I might head towards the communities like you suggested."

"Really?"

"Yeah, just to check it out," She smiles brightly, "There's always the Phillips' house, right?"

"Y-yeah."

Sherry's smile grows. "Can I have a hug? Or is it too late for that after how I acted."

"No, it's...it's not too late."

"Good."

The two of us stand there, until we both awkwardly embrace. She brings her arms around my neck, pressing herself to me.

"I love you, Dwight."

I press my hand to her back. "I...I love you, too."

She breaks the hug and she's still got on a smile. "Tell Nan thank you for the food. I appreciate it. I'll have to pay her back one of these days."

"She's right in the other room, if you want to come in."

"No, I better hit the road," Sherry declines, "It's a two hour drive."

I nod my head. "Okay. I'm glad you decided to go there."

"Yeah, me, too." She steps off the porch. "See ya."

"Yeah."

I watch her walk to a truck that I've never seen before. It's got a Pennsylvania license plate.

She gets in and waves before she takes off. I wave back before closing the door.

I go back to the living room, mildly bewildered.

"Was that-"

"Yeah."

"Is she coming in?"

"No, she's going to town," I tell her, "Gonna see if she can settle there."

Nan nods, watching me sit down. "Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah…" I nod my head, looking down at the table. "I'm happy for her, if she finds someplace."

Nan's quiet a minute. "Did she bring back my basket?"

I look to her. "Uh, no, she didn't."

"Okay."

"She probably left it at the Phillips' house," I tell her, "You want me to go check?"

"No," She waves her hand, "It's nothing special, just a basket."

"Well, we could use the jars again."

She shrugs.

I get up from the couch. "I'll go there now and check. I could use a little air."

"You're walking?"

"Yeah, I don't mind."

"Okay."

I bend down and kiss her temple. "I'll be back."

"Not before breakfast."

"I brought in the eggs already."

"Alright, I'll make eggs and toast."

"Okay."

I leave the house and head down to the old house. I pad my pockets for cigarettes and a light, but I don't have any on me. It would've been a good time to smoke, but I guess I don't need it.

I feel like an asshole for saying what I said about Sherry earlier. She didn't break the promise; she probably just needed some time to herself to figure out what she wanted. She said she liked to be alone.

She seemed a whole lot better than the past two days. Happier. Sort of like her old self.

I'm glad she's going east. It'll be good to know that she's alive and somewhere safe, instead of the hellish uncertainty I've been dealing with the past three years since she left.

I come up on the house some time later, sweating from the warm morning. I go inside and the first place I think to look is where she was yesterday. There's a bad smell almost immediately upon entering the house. Like rotting flesh.

I look around the vacant room. The kitchen's right off the room. The back door is wide open. Across the room, I see a black spot. I walk over and find charred remains of a fire. I knit my brows, stopping down to get a better look at the pieces of kindling. It's the basket.

A noise makes me jump. I turn and my eyes scour the room. More movement draws my eyes towards the room across the small entryway hall. I see and hear a rat in the room. The smell is what gets me to go into the room. It's a walker. It must have gotten in somehow last night. The barriers don't extend this way, only around our house.

I know it's dead, because it's not moving or making any sound on the floor where it lies, but I still go over to it, curious for some reason. There's about two other rats eating at it which makes me wince in disgust.

I look down at the thing, a woman when it was alive, and stare at the brutality. It looks obliterated. The only reason I know it must have been a woman is because of the dress; the head's completely destroyed into matter. It's a familiar sight and not in the good way.

A rustling, like on paper, comes from the room I was in before, so I carefully walk back over to the armchair that wasn't overturned yesterday. I peek over and there, standing on old newspaper is a rat, nibbling in bits of pancake. There's a jar shattered on the ground beside a broken plate.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **CLTex: Yeah, I think she definitely didn't expect Dwight to have moved on and started a family. Hard pill to swallow that her leaving may have vehicled Dwight's choice to move on.**

 **Kara315: Pleasant for now...lol. I can't wait for Negan meeting up with them, too. I have a feeling it'll be sooner than later ;)**


	21. Chapter 21

Rick flings the terrace door open so hard, he nearly breaks the fucking thing off it's damn hinges. He stalks in, stopping right in the dead center of the room. He looks at me as if he could rip me to pieces with his bare fucking hands. His eyes are blazing.

I sit there on my bed, lowering my book to my lap as I stare back. He fucking knows.

"How long?"

"Now Rick, I know what your thinking, but-"

" _How_. _Long?_ " His voice has murder in it.

I exhale. "A few months. She comes by for help with her homework."

"Why?"

"I don't know why," I tell him honestly, "She just came by one day and asked me for help."

Rick runs his hand down his beard. "Is that all?"

I shift my jaw.

He pierced my gaze. "I said, it that-"

"It was," I answer him, "At first. Then she started asking me about other stuff."

"What stuff?"

"About Carl mostly," I reply, "She wanted to know what he was like. She feels like you skip out in certain things."

He stares.

"I told her what a badass he was. How he found The Sanctuary and gunned down my men. And how he stalled me to buy people time to escape Alexandria." I swallow. "How he imagined the world as it is now and...how he thought I could change."

Rick scoffs, shifting his weight to one side.

"Look, she asks, I tell her," I tell him, "That's all. She thinks you and Michonne keep a lot of shit from her because she's too young, but I think she's a lot smarter and a lot more capable of handling the truth than you think."

"The truth?" He huffs at me. "You tell her the truth?"

"If she asks, yes."

"Did you tell her about you?" He asks me. "About what you did to people? How you made people live for you?"

"Yes. When she asked why I was here, I told her everything. What I did to Glenn and Abraham. I held nothing back to make myself look good."

Rick nods, scrutinizing me where I sit.

"I have changed, Rick. I've changed a lot these past three years."

He scoffs, doubtful.

"I know you have reason to doubt that," I say, "I'd call bullshit, too, if it weren't a different time." I lick my lips. "But I've seen the error of my ways."

"Yeah," Rick puts his hand on the chair, "Good for you."

I huff. "I'm not telling tall tales, Rick. I've taken a long, hard look at myself and I get why I'm here."

He heads towards the door.

"I get why you put me here," I go on, "I get why you didn't kill me, even though we both know that you wanted to. Hell, we both know that between the two of us, we both might have let the other bleed out, if it weren't for a good damn reason not to."

Rick turns. "So, what? You're comparing us now?"

"I wanted the same thing you want," I confirm, "I wanted civilization to be built back up. I just went about it the wrong way."

"No, you wanted the glory and the praise," Rick snaps, "You wanted people to worship you. A comfortable life for yourself."

I exhale. "What I did was the first time I or anyone at that factory had seen a real glimmer of hope for making it in this world. I thought I had the right plays. No one ever thinks they're the bad guy when they have good intentions."

"You didn't have good intentions."

"Agree to disagree."

Rick scoffs once more.

"You wanna tell me you never had to take dark turns to get back to the light?"

He runs his hand down his beard again. "It's going back to how it was."

I furrow my brows. "What is?"

"Three square meals a day. Alone." Rick states. "Bathing twice a week and that's it. No special requests, no visits from Gabriel; nothing but isolation."

"Rick-"

"You were given leeway and you broke what little trust you had." He shakes his head in incredulous disgust. "You think I don't know what you've been doing? Complimenting Norah's cooking and building up Gabriel to think you want his help? Trying to talk to me like I'm your best friend, asking about the gardens and my family?"

I stare.

"All you're trying to do is convince us that you're just some regular guy. That you're safe enough and trustworthy enough should be let out, but it's never gonna happen."

I feel a drag in my exhale.

"Like I've said before; you're place is here, Negan."

I swallow. "What about Nan?"

He stares back. "That's done." He turns back and leaves the jail, locking it behind him.

…

"Nan?"

My body convulses. Bile empties into the toilet. Again. And again. I feel sweat bead up out of my pores. My head strains every time I lunge forward. My eyes bulge like they could pop out.

"Nan?" Dwight comes into the bathroom. "You okay?"

I vomit again. This time tears pool and not the kind that have already welled up from being over the toilet bowl.

"Mommy!"

"Wait outside," Dwight redirects Birdie from coming in, "Mommy's not feeling very good right now."

"I want Mommy to put my hair up in a ponytail."

"I'll do it," He tells her, "Just stay out of the bathroom."

"You don't do it right!"

"Go play."

"I want my hair in a ponytail."

I wipe the drippiness from my nose. "I'll put her hair up."

Dwight looks in. "What?"

"I'll put her hair up," I croak, "You can let her in."

"You're sick."

"It's just morning sickness."

"Are you crying?"

"I'm fine."

He shuts the door to the bathroom. I hear Birdie protest outside as I got back to the toilet to hurl. Dwight opens the door again.

"There, her hair's up."

"You put it up too loose." I sniff.

"She was fine with how it looked."

I start to cry.

"What's the matter?"

"I've been up since four," I dry my eyes, "I'm so tired, but I can't stop."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No."

"I can run you a bath."

"The water will just make me feel seasick."

I sniff, running my hand under my nose. The hormones are stirring my emotions around.

"Don't cry, honey." He lightly says, hesitant to step forward.

"I can't help it." I say plainly.

"Why don't you lay down? Get some rest."

"I can't, it's my day to make breakfast."

"No, it's my day and I'll save you some if you wanna sleep for an hour or two."

"But Birdie-"

"Nan, I can make breakfast and watch Birdie."

I nod wearily. "Okay."

He lingers for a moment, before leaving me alone to puke my brains out.

I rinse my mouth out with some water, not yet brushing my teeth because the smell of mint will make me sick. My head feels light as I barefoot it to the bed.

The room is dark. Dwight closed the curtains for me. I lie down on my side, drawing the blanket over my miserable head. I close my eyes to the nausea.

I wake up about an hour later. My head aches from the morning sickness and sleeping past my usual wake up time. I'm incredibly thirsty but water will upset my stomach.

"You can't do it right."

"Hey, I'm doing okay."

"No, you're not."

"How would you know? You can't even see."

"Only Mommy knows how to. You're not good at it."

"Well, maybe if you stop being so mean about it."

Birdie laughs.

I pause at the bathroom, where Dwight's combing through Birdie's hair.

"Hey, you feeling better?"

"Yeah," I look at Birdie's hair, "Whatcha doin'?"

"She wanted me to fix her hair."

"I wanna bun, Mommy."

"Do you know how to do that?"

"...It can't be hard."

"No, but she's particular," I take the comb from him, "You gotta stop halfway through a ponytail."

It takes me two seconds to put her hair up. I move the door to the medicine cabinet, so Birdie can take a look.

"Good?"

"Yeah." Birdie hops off her step stool and runs out.

I look in the mirror at my dark circles.

"I saved you some breakfast."

"Thanks."

"Think you'll be able to keep it down?"

"I guess we'll see." We walk to the kitchen. "You gonna go work on your grandpa's place?"

"Uh, no, I'm gonna stick around," Dwight goes to the skillet, "Just in case you get sick again."

I look over as I get a plate down. "This is like the fourth day you've stayed home."

"So?"

I shrug. "You just usually leave to do work during the day."

"Yeah, well, those barriers were made for a reason, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Besides, my grandpa's place is just a side project. It's not something that needs to be done."

"But it keeps you busy."

"I'm plenty busy around here." He takes the plate and scoops up some hash browns.

"What's going on?" I ask him.

"Nothing, I've just liked being home."

"Is it something to do with Sherry?"

"Sherry?" He looks at me. "She left for town days ago."

"I know, but ever since she showed up, you've been sticking close to home," I walk to the table, "Is there something up?"

"No, everything's fine," Dwight tells me, "I'm just sticking close to home to help out." He hands me a cup of mint tea. "You've been sicker than a dog the last few days and I just wanna make sure you're taking it easy if you need to."

"Oh." I sip some of the tea.

"I like it," He adds, "It's been nice just hanging out with you and Birdie."

I poke a forkful of hashbrown in my mouth. Birdie more than me, I have a feeling. "Okay."

His eyes wander to the table, where they linger in thought.

I clear my throat. "So, did she say where she was going?"

"No, but I'm sure she's found someplace to live."

I nod. "Maybe she'll find someplace near some of the former wives."

"Doubt it," He sits back, "She didn't get along with the other wives."

I look up. "How do you know?"

"She told me when we use to meet."

I nod again. I remember the girls saying a long time ago that Sherry was nice, but recluse. Like she was better than them. All her interactions, while genuine, were brief and made to pass the time when not with Negan or concealed in her room.

I twirl my fork. "Did you and her ever...you know, when you'd meet up with her?"

Dwight looks at me.

"You don't have to tell me," I bite my yoke soaked toast, "I was just curious."

"Why?"

I shrug mildly. "You were still in love, weren't you?"

Birdie comes in. "Daddy, I wanna go swing."

"Go get your shoes."

"Okay." She runs out.

I feel my cheeks redden.

"No."

I glance over. "What?"

"No, we never did," He takes Birdie's shoes when she brings them to him and then sets her to sit on the table, "It was too dangerous to even think about. You saw what happened to Mark when he got caught with Amber."

I remember. They didn't get caught, they got ratted out by Sherry.

"Well, Negan already burned my face," Dwight goes on, "If we had been caught together, who knows what he would've done."

I glance at Birdie. "You think he would've killed you?"

"I don't know," He shrugs, "But I didn't intend on finding out."

I nod my head, smiling at Birdie as she looks up.

"I didn't want to leave Sherry alone with him."

My eyes move back to him. I breathe through my nose. "So, you hadn't...when we were together?"

Dwight ties Birdie's second shoes, peering over at me. He looks me over. "No."

I go back to my breakfast, embarrassed.

Dwight and I casually decided a while back that our relationship, in a way, began before he asked me to move into his room back at the Sanctuary the first time and not when I moved back in the second time, after I had left Negan. We agreed that while the first go wasn't the best and mainly just about sex, we still had this thing going that as gray and lousy as it was, was still a relationship, albeit not a very strong one. We did better the second time around, when we knew what we wanted from one another and that we did in fact want each other.

He helps Birdie down and she goes to the back door. "I wanna go really high, Daddy."

"Okay, I'm coming." He gets up.

"Come on, Mom."

"Let Mom finish her breakfast." Dwight says, ushering her out. "Come on." He shuts the door behind them with some force.

God, that felt like such a blow, even though I know he didn't probably didn't mean anything by it. Dwight's a gentle man in nature. He never slams doors or throws things or breaks anything, at least not on purpose or with anger. I like that about him.

We've been in this odd place for the past few days since Sherry left. I saw their wedding rings in the drawer of his nightstand. I've known for years that he's had both of them and it never bothered me before. But Sherry's unusual return and the fact that he must have pulled them out to look at them the other night has built in my chest.

I know Dwight would never take off and leave me here alone. He's not the type. But I do wonder if he built a life with me after resolving that Sherry would never come back and now that she has, I wonder if he thinks about what could have been.

I take my plate to the sink and rinse it off. From the window, I can see and hear Birdie laughing as Dwight pushes her from the tire swing. I can see his smile at her laughter.

It isn't fair of me to think these things about Dwight. He's never given me reason to believe Birdie and I were just place holders or a settling point.

Sherry's gone to town. She could have fought to stay, staking a claim in a house that used to be both hers and Dwight's, but she didn't. She moved on and Dwight let her move on. I'm the one acting as if there's a ghost in this house.

I put my plate on the drying rack and go outside.

"Mommy!"

…

The keys slide into the lock and turn the bolt out of the door. The door opens after that.

"You didn't eat?"

I don't respond. My back is facing her as I stare at the brick wall, laying in my cot.

"I thought you liked biscuits and gravy."

I do, but I haven't had the stomach for anything the past two days.

"Oh, so we're back at the silent treatment, are we?" Norah huffs and she walks to my cell. "You're a grown ass man. Act like it."

"I'm not hungry."

"Please, I can hear your stomach from over here."

"Just take it and go."

"You know, starving yourself is only gonna make things harder," She says, "They're already treating you like they were before and you going back to this game is only proving their point."

"You're not supposed to talk to me."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a child, so mommy and daddy can't tell me what to do."

"They'll stop you from coming."

"Like hell they will," She scoffs, "I'm the only one who volunteered to cook for you when no one else wanted the job."

I stare at the gray brick. "You think I shouldn't have talked to Judith?"

"I'm not answering that until you eat your food."

I roll my eyes.

"See ya at lunch," She says, adamant, "Asshole."

I move from the cot, irritated. "Give me the fucking food."

Norah turns around and walks the tray back to the bars. "It's cold, but who's fault is that?"

"Shut the fuck up."

She pulls the tray back out of my reach, cocking her brow.

"Sorry." I say, half-meaning it.

Norah lets me take the bowl. "You want the bacon?"

"Yeah." I take the two strips of bacon off the plate and pull 'em through the bars.

She watches me sit down on my cot.

"Satisfied?"

"Yes."

I roll my eyes again as I dig in. If I'm being totally honest, I'm not pissed she's making me eat. I'm fucking starving.

"So," I cut a biscuit with my fork, "You gonna answer me?"

"What?"

"Do you think I was wrong for talking to Judith?"

"Oh," Norah nods slowly, "Kind of."

"Kind of?" I lower my fork. "All I fucking did was help her with her homework."

Norah shrugs. "You don't think maybe you should have, I don't know, not have done that?"

I scoff. "I didn't call her over; she showed up one day and just asked."

She looks up towards the closed window in my cell. "Well, you could have ignored her, or told her to go away."

"Yeah, well, I didn't," I peer down at my food, "I helped her."

"You should have explained to her that you couldn't."

"Oh, give the kid some fucking credit," I gripe, "She's smarter than you think." I stab my fork in the bowl. "At least smarter than her parents take her for. She knew she wasn't supposed to be talking to me; she came here by choice."

"Why would she?" Norah asks. "Why one day did she suddenly just show up?"

"Fuck if I know." As I say that, I'm reminded instantly that she started showing up right after I called out to her that day Maggie came. But that was only because I heard commotion that same morning, which was Nan taking Birdie to the hospital. I didn't intend on befriending her.

"Well," Norah adds, "I think you know that it doesn't matter if she approached you first, you still shouldn't have engaged."

I exhale, scooping up soggy biscuit. "I was helping a kid with her homework. I was a teacher for Christ's sake, it's what I do."

"I thought you said you taught gym?"

"And health."

"You taught sex ed?"

"That's part of health class, isn't it?"

"Lord," Norah rolls her eyes, "How fitting."

I smirk as I eat. "So, you think I was wrong?"

"I think your intentions were good, but I also think you know you were wrong."

"My intentions were always good…"

"Yeah, but you know what they say about good intentions."

"Sure fuckin' do." I look down at my half empty bowl. "Nice talking to you."

"Give it time," She sympathetically advises, "They'll cool off."

"I don't think so. I think I really screwed the pooch on this one."

"I think you'd be surprised," She counters, "Rick and Michonne might seem like hard asses, but they're human like everyone else and are capable of letting things go like everyone else, too."

"We'll see about that."

"Maybe we will."

I scoff to myself, standing up from the bed. "I'm done with this."

"I can see that," She takes the bowl from me, "You all but licked the bowl clean."

"I'm a growing boy."

"How about lunch?" She asks. "Want anything particular?"

"No special requests." I chime the words Rick told me and that I'm sure he told to her as well.

"I think that applies to you asking for things for your cell."

I nod, knitting my brows. "Say, weren't they supposed to take the shit I have now?"

She smiles, shrugging like a know-it-all smartass. "See you later."

When I'm alone, I lie back down. Will they let up in time? Call me a fucking negative asshole all you will, but I'm doubtful as fuck. I've never done anything this fucking stupid since they put me in here.

I've been what I would consider a model prisoner, except for maybe my piss poor attitude up until I changed it a few months ago. Aside from being antagonising whenever they'd come in, I haven't done anything that could be considered "bad." How could I? I've been stuck in a fucking cell for three years.

I don't know how the fuck I'm gonna get myself back into their almost good graces after getting caught talking to Jude. Hope she's not in worse trouble than I am for talking to me. From what I gather, they're more protective of her than they were Carl.

I dip into my pocket and get out the picture Birdie drew. I was given some tape to tape it up on the wall before I got caught talking to Judith, but the tape had a hard time staying gripped to the brick and wouldn't hold. I unfold it and look at it.

I don't remember what she looks like when she was a baby. I have my dumbfuck self to blame for that after hitting my head against the wall. But I know what color her hair is. And that she may be tall for her age. I don't know, she's almost to Nan's hip, which I guess isn't saying much, since Nan's only about five-six.

That's all I know of what she looks like, but I think a lot about it. I know she's got to be beautiful. Smart as a whip, too, from what I gather about what Nan said about her reaching her milestones early or on time. I'd like to think she takes after me there, but honestly, I have no fucking clue. My parents didn't ever say shit about that. They weren't involved. Hell, they probably missed all the milestones...Like I have.

I set the drawing down on my stomach. Guess I didn't exactly turn out better than them, did I? As far as I know, neither of my parents landed themselves in jail. Of course, if I had been honest with my teachers and the people they sent to our house, they probably would have.

But at least my folks as lousy as they were, never did the things I've done. I could blame the world we live in and how I never would have done the shit I've done, if the world hadn't gone to hell, but what's the fucking use? I did what I did and I didn't have to, I chose to. Now, I'll never see my kid or Nan again so she can at least tell me about her.

…

The air is a little muggy tonight as I do my perimeter check. Summer might be coming early. Birdie wanted to come, but Nan made her take a bath instead. She went with me last night. Well, I mean, it was just a walk around the house before I did the real one, but she still enjoyed it.

It's been kind of fun being at home for a few days. I give Nan a hard time about being Birdie's favorite, but I sort of am her favorite. Me being home instead of going out to work on redirect or my grandpa's house has been seventh heaven for Birdie. She's been inseparable from me.

The only time she switches from me to Nan is when the baby kicks, or Nan mentions the baby in any small way. I think she gets a little jealous then and wants Nan's attention. It's kind of cute, but Nan worries that it means Birdie's not gonna like adjusting to a new baby in the house.

She seems interested in the baby kicking when it kicks. She wants to feel the spot on Nan's stomach where Nan can feel movement and gets all awestruck when she has the chance. It doesn't totally take away her mixed feelings, but it makes Nan smile and worry less.

Sweat trickles down my face as I make it back to the house. It's quiet inside, which means Birdie must be down for the night. At least until she wakes up and climbs in our bed.

The glow from the T.V. draws me to the living room, where Nan's sitting on the couch watching a movie with a bowl of chips and the cookie jar.

"Whatcha watchin'?"

She looks over. " _Sunset Boulevard_."

I nod, looking over at the screen. "Your favorite."

"I couldn't find _Casablanca_ ," She replies, "Do you wanna sit down?"

I walk over to the couch. "You love the dramas."

"I've watched _The Sound of Music_ more times than anyone needs to in one lifetime," Nan retorts, "It's nice to have non-happy endings every once and awhile."

I smile, glancing down at the bowl of chips. "You know, we can make chips that have the barbecue seasoning."

"I like them this way," She says, picking a chip that's drizzled in barbecue sauce and cheese, "Do you want any?"

"No, I'm good." I sit down beside her. There's a small space between us.

Nan's sort of been a little standoffish since she saw mine and Sherry's wedding rings in my drawer. I tried to tell her that I was just looking at them, but then I'd have to explain why and I don't want it to sound wrong or her take it the wrong way. That and she dismissed my explanation that night.

I don't get the impression she's mad, she wouldn't have invited me to sit down if she was mad, but she has been off.

"Everything was good on your walk?"

"Yep."

She nods, eating another chip.

I peer over at the cookie jar on the coffee table. I think it's empty.

"I'll have to make more tomorrow."

I move my eyes to hers, which seem to have caught me looking at the jar. I nod my head. I think it's funny how she cried about her weight gain this pregnancy, which isn't as bad as she thinks, yet she's the one who will spend all day baking the molasses cookies she's been craving and complaining about simultaneously as the thing that's making her fat. It's cute, but I won't tell her that because she's been really sensitive this time around being pregnant. Then again, I wasn't really around the first time, so maybe this is normal.

"I love this part."

I pay attention. "Why?"

"I don't know," She shrugs, "It's dramatic."

"It's all dramatic," I reply, "Isn't that the point? Norma's overly dramatic."

"She's silent era hollywood," Nan says, "They had to be overly dramatic."

"That's what I said."

"It's why I love old films."

"The hysterics?"

"Yeah," She lays her head down on my shoulder, "I was raised to be seen and not heard. I loved watching these movies, because I always wished in a way that I could have that much life in me. Or the ability to express it, I mean."

I look at her, surprised where she laid her head.

"I used to play like I was in melodrama when I was a kid."

I smile a little, snickering.

"What?"

"I'm trying to picture you throwing yourself around the place in despair like that."

Nan's quiet for a moment. "I'm glad Birdie likes to play other games."

"Why?"

"Because I played the tragic damsel because I felt like my life was that helpless sometimes," She says, "I'd never want Birdie or this baby to feel like that."

"Oh."

"I don't want them to have the same mommy issues I had and grown up to be like me."

"They're not gonna have mommy issues," I chuckle softly, "You're a great mom."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I confirm, "You wouldn't be worrying so much if you weren't."

She inches snugly closer.

"And what's so bad about them turning out like you?"

She scoffs, reaching for more chips. "How much time do you have?"

I smile, snickering. "You're one of the bravest people I know."

"Yeah." She dryly says as she crunches her chips.

"You stood up to Negan when no one would."

"I was pregnant with his child," She replies, "He was never gonna hurt me."

"Doesn't matter. You had more guts than every person in that place."

She shrugs. "There was a war of people standing up to Negan."

"Sure, but no one at The Sanctuary had the balls to do it, except you."

"That's not true," She chews, watching the movie,"You stood up to him and so did Simon."

"I snuck around and Simon just wanted to take his place," I retort, "You spray painted his walls, caused insubordination, and then remained defiant when you got caught."

Nan's quiet again. "...I was pregnant."

"Stop cutting yourself so short," I complain, "You made the workers feel powerful, even if for a moment."

Nan looks up.

I glance at her. "You've got barbecue sauce on your lip."

She wipes her mouth, chuckling with me. I brush what she missed off with my thumb.

Nan gets that look in her eye. It's a shy but not so shy look that sometimes comes with a small smile. Her less open way of signalling that she's turned on.

She sits up and then stands. She faces me and then carefully moves to straddle me. I put my hands on her sides.

"Am I crushing you?"

"No."

Nan leans down and kisses me. I feel electricity. She looks into my eyes. "Do you wanna go to bed?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

She gets off me and waits for me, sort of bashfully, to get up.

We walk down the hall to our bedroom. Nan quietly shuts the door behind us and starts to undress right away. As I watch her take off her blouse, I suddenly feel nervous.

"Uh, Nan?"

"Hm?" She looks up as she takes off the band from her jeans.

"Um...how do we do this?"

Nan meets my eyes, pausing. "What?"

"How do we…?" I shrug my shoulders.

"Have sex?"

"Yeah…" I nod, kind of embarrassed to ask.

She looks down for a moment. "I could be on top, or...you could bend me over."

"What, like, on the bed?"

"Yeah."

I nod my head, still off about it.

"We don't have to," She says, still undressing, "I know it makes you uncomfortable."

"No, it's just...we've never done this before."

"It's sex, Dwight, we've had sex before. There's just an elephant in the room."

"You'll let me know, if anything hurts, right?"

A little, humored smile breathes across her face. "Yeah, I'll let you know."

"Don't laugh."

She shrugs. "You're cute when you're anxious."

"Shut up."

"So…" She looks at me in just her bra and underwear. "Do you want me on top?"

"Um, yeah." I exhale, taking my clothes off.

"We can wait, if you want."

"No, you've been whipped up for a while and-"

"Whipped up?" Nan arches her brow. "What you mean like horny?"

"...Yeah," I undo my belt, "I've been with you long enough to know when you're...frustrated."

Her shoulders lower a bit as she stares at me. She bends over, struggling to get her fallen clothes without squatting. "Forget it."

I stop as I go to pull my shirt over my head. "What?"

"We're not having sex to do the hormone crazed pregnant lady any favors."

"That's not what I meant."

"I've done the whole lay back and let them get their rocks off thing before and it's not pleasant," She drops her clothes in the hamper, "It sucks and I don't want anyone to feel the way it made me feel."

I stare. "You mean me?"

"Yeah," She sighs, going over to the dresser, "I don't want you to feel like a piece of meat."

"No, I meant you mean I made you feel that way."

Nan stops what she's doing.

"Back at The Sanctuary?"

She continues going through the drawer. "We've talked about that, D."

My eyes watch her and I wring my fingers. "I used to do that to you."

"I let you."

"You shouldn't have."

"Yeah, well, I was a screwed up person who let people use me, because I liked to be used."

"That's not how I remember it."

"Well…" She sighs, frustrated, "I didn't like to be used by _you_."

"Why?"

"What sort of question is that?" She shoots a rude glance my way as she slips on a night shirt.

"I mean, why was I the one who you didn't want to be used by?"

She opens her jar of lotion. I see her face in the small mirror on the top of the dresser. The contemplative brows and the recollecting off stare. "Because I liked you."

"You didn't know me."

"I knew you well enough," She lifts her arm and slathers some of the buttery lotion on her skin, "I liked what I knew about you. I didn't see you as the type."

I bite my lip, looking down. "I was."

"You tried to be," She breathes out, "Goddamn it, Dwight." She turns to look at me. "Why are we talking about this for the umteenth time?"

"You brought it up."

"No, you did."

"No, you said you didn't want to make me feel how you used to feel when you were being used," I retort, "I was one of those that used you, how the hell am I not supposed to think that when you say something about it?"

"Because I forgave you!" She raises her voice. "We've been together for three years, we have a family! I was speaking generally, I wasn't targeting you!"

"Well, you don't get to decide how I take it when you're generally speaking about people who had sex with you because you were around when I'm in that category."

She stares at me. Tears pool around her eyes and I feel bad. "I didn't mean you."

I know it's probably her hormones making her tear up this quick into the argument, but it still makes me sigh, sympathetic.

"I know."

Her face winces. "Then why did you say that?"

"Because...I was being stupid."

"I'm sorry I made you think I meant you." She wipes the tears from her eyes.

"It's okay," I tell her, "Don't cry."

"I'm not."

I walk over to her and she meets me halfway. "Look, let's just forget it, alright? We're arguing over something stupid."

"I love you, Dwight," She sniffs against me, "I wasn't talking about you."

"I know, I'm sorry I brought it up," I soothe her back, "Stop crying."

When she breaks the embrace, I see her pouty face she doesn't know she's making.

"What?"

Her eyes flick up to mine. "I am whipped up," She croaks, "Like, all the time. I can't help it."

I mouth an 'oh' and nod my head.

"I've been taking care of it myself, but it's hard to reach as good sometimes."

I knit my brows.

She scans my eyes. "Is that too much information?"

"No, I just...when?"

Her cheeks light up. "That's embarrassing, Dwight."

"Sorry, I just haven't...noticed."

She shrugs. "You're usually asleep."

I don't know why that turns me on all of the sudden, but it does. I kiss her.

She instantly reciprocates, locking her fingers through my hair. I walk us both to the bed. When her legs touch the frame, she breaks the kiss, breathless.

"Bend me over."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," She nods, "My knees are already killing me too much for me to be on top."

"Wouldn't they hurt more, if-"

"Just do it." She says impatiently.

"Alright."

She takes off her nightshirt and undoes her bra, then her panties. I feel like I can't keep up. She stands there, waiting for me. As I take my shirt off, she unbuttons my pants and sticks her hand down. I cum a little when she strokes me.

When I'm ready, I incline us to the bed more. Nan turns around and bends as she starts to climb on the bed.

"Wait."

"What?"

"I can't do this," She shifts back towards me and sits with a flushed face, "I feel sick."

"Okay," I nod, glancing to the door, "We can call it a night."

"I think I ate too much chips and cookies."

"You want some tea, or something?"

"No, I'll be okay." She says, disappointed.

I smile at her. "We can try again tomorrow, if you want."

Nan exhales, her cheeks still bright and glowing. She nods, before putting her hand out. "I'm gonna brush my teeth."

I help her up.

Her eyes travel down as she rises. I'm still hard from her stroking.

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

She meets my eyes and I lean over to kiss her. She kisses me back, reaching down and takes me in her hand again. I close my eyes at the feeling. I open them again when she moves down.

After, I check on Birdie to make sure she's still asleep while Nan brushes her teeth and finishes getting ready for bed.

"Is she asleep?"

"Yeah, out like a light," I report, shutting the door nearly closed, "Hopefully she sleeps through the night."

"Yeah." She weakly agrees, putting socks on her feet.

"Do you remember when I was the pushover and you were the hammer?"

She huffs. "I'm still stern."

"Not as much as you were a few months ago," I get in bed, "If I weren't around, that kid would have you doing tricks through a hoop."

"Shut up." She almost chuckles.

"You shouldn't let her being upset about the baby guilt you."

"I know, but it's easier said than done," Nan lays back, "I don't like to see her cry over it."

"She's three, Nan; she cries over not getting to shampoo her own hair."

She shrugs. "Yeah…" She shifts to her side.

I move, laying behind her. I smooth my hand across her arm. "When's your next appointment again?"

"It's coming up soon."

I move my hand to her bump. "Maybe we'll know what we're having."

"I already know what we're having."

I smile. Her skin is warm. She inches as if to get closer to me. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I just want you to hold me," She says, "It's cold."

It's not cold in here. The bathroom window had let in a warm breeze. All that arousal from before is still pent up. I know my wife. Despite her attempts, Nan's not good at hiding anything.

"I love you, Dwight."

I kiss her shoulder. "I love you, too."

I reach my hand down, past her belly. I can feel the enormous heat over her underwear. As my fingers slip under, she sighs through nose, leaning back against me.

…

The ball bounces off the wall across the room and back towards me. I catch it with my mitt and then throw it again. I've been on a streak for hours. I lost count after two-forty, I got distracted, but I know I've gone way past that by now. I don't know the exact time, because I haven't checked, but the sun's going down and it was about two when I started.

I don't know if this is a fucking waste of time, no; it abso-fuckin'-lutely is a waste of time, but it's not like my time's fucking precious.

I finished reading _Animal Farm_ and I can't fucking tell you how much that booked sucked more than I remember. I remember liking it in high school ages ago, but this time around it left a bad taste in my mouth. I've been called a pig before, but Jesus.

I've come to somewhat of an understanding about what I did. Even though all I did was help Jude with homework and occasionally chat with her then, as a father, I can get why they wouldn't want some adult man in a cell talking to their eight year old. Especially after all the shit I've done to their family.

It irks me to know that they talk to my kid, mainly because they can and I can't, but I guess I can see how they'd feel the same way about me talking to Jude. I knew it could get me in a world of trouble and I still fucking did it. I knew it jepordized me ever getting out of here and I still fucking did it. I could have told her to scram, but I didn't. She's a good kid, I like her, but I should've been smart and thought about my own daughter. I don't know, maybe I was, I just know I fucked up.

The door opening catches me off guard and I toss the ball short and it lands just outside my bars.

"You broke my fucking streak."

"Pardon?"

"My streak, Gabe, I've been tossing that ball and catching it every time for god knows how long and you fucking distracted me just now," I get up from my bed, "Now I've gotta start all over."

"Perhaps your time could be put to better use." He replies.

"Does everyone forget that I'm in a cell, or do you pretend to forget to fuck with me?" I chuckle, picking up the ball, "What do you recommend? Knitting? Tunneling out of here with a spoon?"

The look on his face shows he's not amused.

"If you get me more tape, I can use my daughter's drawing to cover the hole."

"Very funny."

I snicker. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Thursday."

"Rick said-"

"Well, Rick doesn't speak for everyone," Gabriel interrupts, "I took a vow when I became a priest to council those who seek guidance and I intend on keeping that vow, no matter what Rick or Michonne say."

"Did you keep to your vow when you locked your congregation out of your church?"

He stares.

"Don't set yourself up for it, Father."

"So, you don't want my help?"

"I don't know if the whole breathe in, breathe out while you're fucking up my hearing with that bowl and rod shit is actually doing any good," I tell him, "I can never get my head to shut up anyway."

"So, you're giving up?" He scoffs. "Despite all the progress you've made?"

"What progress?" I smartly ask. "Don't know if you're aware, but they were never buying it."

"You've admitted to your sins," Gabriel says, "You've made strides to-"

"It doesn't matter, Gabe," I cut him off, "If they don't believe that I've turned a new leaf or whatever, then it doesn't mean shit."

"Is that what you believe?" He amazes, staring at me. "That all the efforts you've put in one to two times a week these past few months is pointless if it doesn't yield the desired outcome?"

I shrug, walking back to my bed. "I'm a prisoner, Gabby. Rick and Michonne might be impressed by my change in attitude or perspective on the past, but the moment I fuck up, no matter how big or how little; they get to reaffirm their choice to put me here. All niceties, if you can call giving me a plant and some books nice, goes right out the window."

"Maybe if you would stop trying to sell them your rehabilitation and prove it with sincerity and through your actions, they would believe that you are a different man."

I scoff, sitting back down.

He does the same, stalking back out the door and slamming it.

…

"Daddy, I don't like this kind!"

"What's wrong with 'em?"

"I want the kind Mommy makes!"

"Mommy and I make pancakes the same way."

"No, I want the other kind!" Birdie complains from her chair. "I want waffles!"

"We'll have waffles tomorrow."

"No, I don't want them tomorrow!" She pushes her plate away. "I don't want pancakes!"

"Birdie, you need to eat breakfast," I go over to the table, "Now, you like pancakes and I've got hashbrowns and sausage coming, so eat."

"No!" She definitely shouts.

"Birdie."

She gets off the chair and runs into the living room.

"Birdie!"

As I go after her, I hear an engine outside. I go to the front and look out the window. It's the truck Sherry was driving a few days ago.

I go out and walk towards the road. It's her and she comes to a stop with the window down.

"Hey!" She causally calls.

"What are you doing here?" I ask her. "I thought you were going into town?"

"I didn't like there," She smiles, "I thought I-"

"There's three communities," I say, "You didn't like any of them?"

Her smiles lowers. "...I didn't feel welcome. The Saviors there looked at me like I was a monster. Like they blamed me for what happened to you, I-I couldn't stay in any of those places. They were everywhere."

I look back at the house briefly and then back at her. "It was only two and a half days."

She scoffs. "So, I should live somewhere where I'm not welcome?"

"Were you not welcome to stay?" I ask. "At any of them?"

"You think I'm lying?"

"I think you should have toughed it out a little longer than two days," I shrug, "People let that stuff go easy. They were probably just surprised to see you is all."

"So, I'm being dramatic?"

I exhale. "I...I don't know."

"You said I could come back, if I didn't like it."

"No, you said there was always the Phillips' place if you didn't like it."

Sherry looks at me with pointed eyes. "Do you not want me to up here?"

I lick my lips.

"Your family life might get disrupted if your wife comes back?"

"Ex-wife."

"That marriage to Negan was never real."

"Maybe, maybe not," I scratch an itch on my nose, "But my marriage to Nan is."

Her lips part.

"I saw what you did," I tell her, "At the Phillips' place."

"So?" Sherry shrugs, looking out the front window of the truck. "I was pissed. I came back to learn my husband was living the life we talked about with another woman, sue me for throwing a couple of jars of jam."

"I meant the walker," I explain, "What you did to it."

She looks back to me. "And?"

My eyes scan her hard, changed eyes. "I think you should reconsider the towns."

Sherry gives an incredulous scoff. "Is that right?"

"Yeah."

She licks her lips, nodding. "Is this about Nan?"

"No, it's about you."

She gives me one more look. Her eyes are the same, almost void. "Yeah, well," She shifts the truck's gears, "Fuck you, D."

She drives off down the road towards the Phillips' house. I watch until she's out of sight. I walk back into the house.

I lock the door behind me and stand there for a minute. A noise reminds of Birdie in the living room, so I tread there.

She's sitting on her timeout stool with her arms crossed.

"Go eat breakfast."

"No!"

"Birdie, now."

"No, I don't want to!"

I breathe in. "Birdie Jane Rollins," I say more sternly, even pointing my finger, "Stop pouting and get in there and eat your breakfast, or you're not playing outside at all today, do you hear me?"

"I don't like pancakes."

"Well, then eat the hashbrowns," I look towards the kitchen, suddenly remembering them on the stove, "Shit."

I go to the pan and take off the lid. They're a little crispier than normal, but still edible.

"Birdie!" I call, scooping up some hash browns onto a plate. "Now."

Birdie comes into the kitchen. "I want bacon."

"We're out of bacon."

"I want toast."

"Go sit down and I'll make you toast."

"I'll eat my pancakes for lunch, okay?" She says, looking up at me.

"Alright, go sit."

"Okay, Daddy." She runs over to her spot at the table. "Where's Mommy?"

"She's sick, remember?"

"She needs to eat breakfast." She gets down from the table and runs out, yet again.

I sigh, setting the plate down and then going after her, again. "Birdie, Mommy wants to be alone."

"Mommy!" I hear Birdie call from our bedroom. "You need to eat your breakfast."

"Birdie." I enter our bedroom. Birdie's standing in the doorway of our bathroom. The sounds of Nan's miserable retching and crying echo off the tile.

I go over and pick Birdie up. "Come on," I shut the door as I walk out, "Let's leave Mommy alone."

I take Birdie back to the kitchen and sit her down. I then go to the fridge to fish out some ketchup she'll want for her hashbrowns.

"What kind of jam do you want on your toast, Bird?"

No response.

I look beyond the door. "Birdie?"

She's sitting there at the table with big tears in her dark hazel eyes.

I shut the door and go to the table. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Mommy!" She puts her fists up to her eyes as she cries.

"Oh," I kneel beside her chair, "Birdie, it's okay. Mommy's just got morning sickness like she does every morning. She'll be okay."

"I don't want her to be sick!" She leans towards me and I take her in my arms. "It's scary!"

"I know, but she's okay," I pick her up and walk to the stove with her to make myself a plate, "I promise. She'll be out in a little bit, you'll see."

"I want Mommy."

"She'll be done soon," I go back to the table, sitting down with her in my lap, "Don't cry, baby. Come on and eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

She sniffs, looking down at my breakfast. "I want pancakes, Daddy."

I reach over and bring her plate close. "Here."

"No, I wanna share with you."

"Okay."

After breakfast and after Birdie's had time to calm down, I go in and check on Nan as Birdie goes to her room to play.

Nan's laying on my side of the bed, which is closer to the bathroom.

"You okay?"

"Better," She says with her hand over her eyes, "How's Birdie?"

"She was upset, but she's okay now."

"I hate when she sees me like this," Nan rasps, "I think I need to see the doctor."

"What's wrong?"

She shakes her head. "I think I might be getting dehydrated from all the puking."

I nod. "You wanna go now?"

"Yes."

"Okay, let me get Birdie ready and we'll go."

"Okay."

I turn to leave.

"Did I hear a truck go by earlier?"

I stop. "Uh, yeah…it was Sherry."

"It was?"

I look over my shoulder and her looking at me with her head raised from my pillow. "Yeah...I think she's moving into the Phillip's house."

Nan looks off and with a breath, covers her eyes again.

I close the door behind me and head to Birdie's room.

 **Thanks for reading! Hope you all enjoy!**


	22. Chapter 22

I lay quietly as Siddiq listens for the baby's heartbeat through his stethoscope. He moves it around my globe of a belly, looking down in concentration. I peer over to Dwight standing at the foot of the bed, holding a sleeping Birdie while staring at the doctor. I smile a little at him.

"Heart seems healthy," Siddiq finally ends the pregnant pause in the room, taking off his stethoscope, "As far as I can tell, the baby seems fine. You're just dehydrated from all morning sickness."

I watch him move. "So, what does that mean?"

"It means fluids," He informs me, "I can also give you some electrolytes and magnesium to help absorb it."

"Does that mean I have to stay?"

"I'd like you to stay at least overnight and maybe until the following evening," Siddiq answers, "You should be able to manage it on your own after that."

I nod my head. "Okay."

"I'll be right back," He goes to leave the room, "I've got more fluid packs in the stockroom."

I turn my attention to Dwight after Siddiq leaves. "Come sit down. You're making me anxious standing there."

He carries Birdie with him to the chair Siddiq was just sitting in and has a seat.

"Honey, it's alright," I smile softly, "I'm fine, the baby's fine; I'm just a little dehydrated."

Dwight breathes through his nose. "I think I'm entitled to worry about you sometimes."

"I'm fine, Dwight."

"You know, you tell me all the time not to tell you not to worry."

I smile a little. "Yeah."

"Yeah, well…" Birdie moves against him, but settles with a sigh. He exhales quietly. "Your my wife, I get to worry."

My smile grows shy. I look at Birdie's head on his shoulder. "You can lay her on the bed, if you want."

"She's alright."

Siddiq returns with a clear pack which he hooks up to a stand. I watch as he connects a tube to it and then a needle.

"You're gonna feel a pinch." He says after he disinfects the crook of my elbow.

I breathe through it. The pain isn't what bothers me, I don't like the idea of the needle going in.

"Alright, now we just let the I.V. do its job. Hopefully you'll be feeling better soon once you get your fluids back."

"Thank you."

"Of course," He smiles politely, "Let me know if you need anything. I'll come check in you throughout the day."

He leaves again.

I focus back to Dwight. "How about you take her home?"

"What?"

"I'll be here for almost two days," I say, "You can take her home. Hal or Laura can drive me back."

"We're staying." He adamantly says, giving me a 'yeah, right' look.

"Okay." I glance over at the I.V. in my arm. "So, is Sherry planning on staying in the house down the road?"

"I don't know."

I look over. "What'd she say?"

"She said she felt judged here by the other Saviors."

"The Saviors aren't Saviors anymore."

"Yeah, I know," Dwight carefully moves Birdie's one leg from behind him, "I told her that. I also told her it probably was just her nerves."

I quietly observe him. "Do you want her to come back?"

Dwight's eyes pick up from some unknown point. Before he can answer, Hal comes in.

"Hey."

"Hey." I croak with a smile.

"You might have to move in with how often you're here."

I snicker. "Just might."

He looks over at the fluid pack. "What's the diagnosis?"

"Dehydration," I tell him, "I'm fine; I only have to stay for the fluids."

"Overnight?"

"Yeah, I'll leave tomorrow afternoon."

"Huh," Hal looks me over, "How far along now?"

"Seven on Sunday."

Hal whistles. "Time flies."

"Yeah."

"Picked out any names?"

"We don't know what we're having," I remind him, "The machine is dead."

"Well, you have to pick something," Hal says, "How about Hal if it's a boy to make up for the fact that you told Laura before me."

"For the last time, I didn't tell her, she saw the test."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." He teases.

"Actually this bed seems like it could do the trick," I say about the hospital bed that's reclined just right, "Think we could borrow it until I have the baby?"

"We'd never be able to get it home." Dwight chuckles.

"You want anything?"

"I'm okay for now."

"Alright, well, I should get back to work."

"Okay, see ya."

"See ya." Hal says to both of us, before leaving. "Oh," He turns, looking between us, "I almost forgot; Sherry came in the other day."

"We know."

"You do?"

"Yeah." I give a small smile.

"Okay...I take it that means you know where she is now, since she left before we could find a place for her."

"Yeah, she up around us."

Hal nods, before leaving.

Dwight looks over at me. "Hungry?"

"A little, but I think I just wanna sleep for a little bit."

"Alright." He settles back in the chair, resting his cheek on Birdie's head.

I stare softly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"I wasn't going to tell you to."

"Good, 'cause I'm not."

I sleepily smile.

Birdie squirms in Dwight's arms, opening her heavy eyes. Her brows knit as she tries to make sense of where we're at.

When she sees me in the hospital bed with the I.V. in my arm, her faces winces and she looks as if she might cry.

"Mommy." She croaks, inclining my way while still in Dwight's arms.

"It's okay," I smile, taking her from Dwight, "Don't cry; Mommy's alright."

Birdie settles on my side, holding onto me as I comfort her.

I look over at Dwight as I slowly rock her back to sleep, smiling and closing my eyes.

…

"Whatcha readin'?"

" _The Yellow Wallpaper_." I answer with my eyes on the page.

Norah sets the tray down in it's usual spot. "You know, I really took you for a Hemingway sort of guy."

"Huh." I grunt, still reading.

"Are you gonna eat?"

"Uh-huh."

She stands there, staring at me. "...Are you gonna eat before it gets cold?"

"What do you care?"

"I didn't slave over a hot stove all morning, making you a meal too good for you, for you to let it cool and waste."

"It's my fucking breakfast," I acknowlegde her, "What the fuck does it matter if I eat it hot or cold?"

Norah scoffs. "Whatever, asshole."

"I'm an asshole for choosing when to eat my own breakfast?"

"You know what? I do whatever you want," She tells me, turning around, "Go on another hunger strike, if you want. It worked great for you the last time."

"What are you on the rag, or something?" I scoff.

"Go to hell, Negan."

I groan as I get up from my bed. "Alright, you win. I'm gonna eat."

"Good." She curtly retort, opening the door.

"What? You're still pissed?" I huff. "I'm doing what you wanted me to do, Jesus."

"I'm not gonna keep you company, if you're just gonna feel sorry for yourself and act like an ass."

I scoff again. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Oh, so you haven't been distant the past couple days, despite me telling you I'd still sit with you while you ate after you got your privileges revoked?"

"Distant?" I scoff. "I was reading."

"What about yesterday? And the day before?" Norah demands to know with her hands on her hips. "You've practically given me the cold shoulder three times a day."

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck am I? A fucking performing monkey to you people?" I raise my voice. "If I don't do the dance, I'm a moody asshole? Fuck you. And fuck them."

She rolls her eyes, shutting the door behind her. I think the rest of my life is gonna be measured out by the opening and closing of doors.

I get the biscuits and gravy over hashbrowns and my coffee and sit against my bed to eat as I read. The door creaks open again. "Did you come back to call me an asshole one more time?"

"Language."

I look up at the familiar voice. "Ho-ly shit," I urgently set my plate down, "What the hell are you doing here, kid?"

"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry for getting you in trouble."

"Don't worry about me," I tell her, "Just beat it, before your mom and dad catch you down here."

"I told them it wasn't you," Judith says, "I told them I talked to you on my own. That you didn't call me over."

I look at her plain, but fierce face. I scoff into a smile.

"What?"

"Nothing," I shake my head, "You just remind me of Carl is all."

At that, Jude smiles a little. Her smile fades. "I told them you weren't a monster."

My smile dips, too. "They still call me that?"

She nods her head. "But I told them they were wrong. That you did bad things, but that doesn't mean you're a monster."

I let my eyes fall to the ground.

"I have to go." She tells me. "I just wanted to tell you that."

I nod. "Thanks, Jude."

She hesitates, before backing away to the door. "Bye."

"Bye."

I breathe through my nose, walking past my food to sit on my bed.

…

I wake up about half an hour after I fell asleep in the chair by Nan's bedside. My neck hurts from lack of support. Nan's peacefully still asleep, but I find Birdie laying beside her with her eyes softly open. Her little fingers fiddling with Nan's hair like she's done since she was a baby.

"Bird."

Her eyes blink to mine.

"Come over here," I motion for her, "Let Mommy rest."

Birdie sits up and starts to crawl over her mother.

"Careful, baby." I pick her up, hoisting her over Nan's moon-shaped belly.

"I wanna go home, Daddy." She murmurs in my arms.

"We're gonna go home tomorrow."

"No," She complains, "I wanna go home today, Daddy."

I kiss her temple. "Where's the bathroom? You need to go?"

She nods her head. "Yeah."

"Alright, let's go and then we'll see about lunch," I carry her around the house, looking for the bathroom, "You hungry?"

"Um, yeah."

Birdie makes me stand outside the bathroom door now, instead of just turning around inside. She started doing that after Nan started getting so sick, she would shut the door or have me shut the door, so Birdie wouldn't see.

Nan's still asleep when we get back from the bathroom, so I take Birdie to the kitchen, where I make her and myself sandwiches. I lead her outside to eat on the front steps since it's a nice day.

"Daddy, what's wrong with Mommy?".

"Uh, Mommy's just not feeling well." I tell her, assuming it's easier than trying to explain Nan's actual condition.

"I don't want Mommy to be sick."

"Me neither," I chew my sandwich, "But she's gonna be okay, so don't worry about her."

"Is the baby sick, too?"

"The baby's okay."

"Okay." Birdie bites into her sandwich. Her finger springs forward, pointing. "Look!" She exclaims with her mouthful.

I follow her finger and spot Daryl and the dog he found some months back coming up the road. "Oh...yeah."

Daryl has allowed me to come back, but not wholly on his own. He reluctantly agreed to put his threat to rest after Nan and I brought Rick back, but he was definitely persuaded to let up. Still, I'm grateful, but I know he doesn't like me, which I don't blame him, and I know he doesn't think I've fully redeemed myself.

"I wanna go pet Dog!" Birdie says.

"Finish your lunch." I tell her.

"'Kay."

Daryl and Dog, the name he lazily gave the dog turn out of sight, which means Birdie will forget by time she finishes her sandwich and which means I won't have to take her. Like I said, we aren't exactly cool. Anytime Birdie has pet Dog, Nan's been there. He likes Nan. He's never said it outright, I don't think he would, but he's got some kind of partiality towards her.

"Hey!"

I look up from my sandwich. "Oh, hey."

Isobel waves with a genuine smile, holding hands with her son, Kit. "I heard Nan's in the hospital."

"Yeah, she got dehydrated from all the morning sickness."

"Oh, poor thing," Isobel sympathizes, "Will she be alright?"

"Yeah, she's only gotta stay for the night."

"The baby?"

"Fine as far as Siddiq can tell."

"Good," She looks over at Birdie, "How are you, Bird?"

"Good." Birdie chews her sandwich.

Isobel smiles at her, then looks at me. "Is she taking visitors?"

"She might be asleep still, but you can go in and check."

"Sure," Isobel glance over at Kit, "You wanna hang here awhile with Birdie?"

Kit looks over at Birdie. He's shier than Birdie, or at least is shier around her, which is probably because she's so mercurial with him for no reason.

"Sure." He answers.

I look to Birdie. "Play nice with Kit, while Isobel goes to see Mom, alright?"

"Okay." Birdie sets her sandwich down on her napkin. "Let's go color."

"Okay." Kit follows her into the house.

I get from the steps. "Is Elizabeth around? Nan's been wanting to see her, but we miss her every time we come down."

Isobel gives an apologetic face. "Nate took her to the Kingdom to help with the flooding that's been going on there?"

"Flooding?"

"Yeah, the pipes are bad there, I guess. Some of them have burst, so there's been a lot of flooding and it's caused a lot of damage to some of the crops and houses." She lets out a breath through her nose. "Nate made Lizzie go along with him. Said she needed to cool down."

I raise my brows. "Cool down?"

"Yeah," She nods, "Someone from the past, someone we never thought we'd see again, showed up here the other day and she was pretty upset about it."

I look at her. "Who?"

"Oh, some woman from a long time ago," Isobel says, "She came into our camp one day and we invited her to stay." She shrugs. "She seemed normal. Sound."

"What'd she do to make Liz so angry?"

Isobel's faint smile lessens. She looks down. "One of our trucks held all our supplies in it, so the rest could hold us on the road. She stole off with it. Killed one of ours before she did when he tried to stop her. Bludgeoned him to death."

I stare as I listen in susprious dread. Her face shows a disturbance.

"I had never seen such brutality. I still get goosebumps thinking about when we came back to camp and found Nick like that. He was just nineteen."

The mental image of bloody, broken heads flashes through my mind.

"Anyway," She exhales, "Kit was really sick at the time." Her eyes water a little. "We were afraid he wouldn't make it without the meds she stole."

"Did she know he was sick?"

"Yeah, he had been for the few days she was with us," She answers, "She even asked about him."

I nod slowly. "Where is she now?"

"We don't know," Isobel shrugs again, "When Lizzie spotted her, she said the women looked right at her then turned around. Liz followed her, but she disappeared in the crowd of people. Neither she, or any one of us have seen her since."

"You think she left?"

"If she was even here," Isobel shrugs, "Lizzie could have been mistaken."

"But she's upset enough to have to be distracted?"

Isobel shrugs her shoulder, going inside.

I look out, troubled. I hear Nan's subtle, delighted voice inside.

…

Lying in bed for long periods of time, even at the doctor's recommendation, is excruciating. There's not a lot to do, beside rest between intervals of silence when Dwight and I can't think of anything else to say, or when there's a gap between visitors.

I'm having trouble keeping anything that isn't clear down, but at least I'm keeping something down. Laura brought me some brown bread, my favorite, which I haven't lost yet. I can drink water safely so long as it's warm, so I've been drinking caffeine-free tea. I'm glad I'm able to hold anything in my stomach, but all this broth is making me ravenous.

Siddiq says I'm making a good recovery and is confident I'll be able to go home as scheduled. I'll have to take electrolyte packets that make the water they dissolve in chalky to make sure I'm keeping fluids, but hey. I'm also getting another bottle of prenatals because I'm nearly out.

Birdie has been entertained by Isobel and Kit and then Grace and Judith while Dwight and I are here. Dwight had to scold her for rudely critiquing Kit's coloring, but she gets along perfectly fine with Grace and Judith. I think she looks up to Judith because she's older.

It's been nice having her occupied; otherwise she'd cling to me like a sloth.

"Are you winning?" I ask Dwight, who's playing his four game of solitaire.

"I'm doing better than the last game." He says, not looking up from the game.

"Is it fun?"

"It passes the time."

"If you're bored, go for a walk, or something."

"I'm not bored."

"You're playing a boring game to pass the time. I nudge my foot, rippling the cards at the end of the bed.

"Hey!"

"Honey, go do something."

"I'm fine right here." He collects the cards to start again.

"You don't have to keep me company," I tell him, "I promise I will be just fine."

"I know, I'm just content being here." He grouchily shuffles the cards.

I watch him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You seem a little bothered."

"Nope."

I twist my mouth to the side, inspecting the I.V. in my arm. "What about Marion?"

Dwight looks over. "Huh?"

"For a girl?" I ask him. "If it's a girl, that is."

"Oh…" He nods in understanding. "I thought you were dead certain we're having a boy."

"Yeah, but if it's a girl, we still need to have names picked out."

"We don't have any for a boy."

"Yes, I thought we said Samuel, after your grandfather."

Dwight shrugs. "I didn't know we were set on that. I thought you were just thinking out loud."

"I wasn't."

"Alright," He says, "We can name 'em after Sam, if it's a boy." His face waffles. "But Marion? Where'd you come up with that?

I shrug. "It was a character's name in a book I read once. It's a pretty name."

He shakes his head. "Nah."

"Well...we could name her after your mom."

"That's fine."

"Fine?"

He shrugs. "I like the name Caroline."

"You're too easy going." I tell him with a snicker.

"If naming the baby's this easy, then yeah."

I run my hand along my belly. The baby's kicked here and there all day, but for the most part has been quite tranquil.

Sitting here gets me thinking three years ago, when I was pregnant with Birdie. Aside from the dehydration and the non-stop morning sickness, it really has been a breeze. Dwight's been so amazing the whole time, which I think makes such a difference. He's been so caring and attentive.

I think back to when he had been in hiding with Rick's people during the war and how I settled to rely on Negan for support. It brings a sort of gloom over me. I'd be lying if I said he hadn't tried up until Dwight got locked up and I rebelled. He did, but it wasn't the same. It was about luxury and the life he could give us. The act of caring was something I think he thought he could perform, but fell short in so many ways.

…

By three o'clock the next day, Siddiq clears me to go home. Birdie, who wanted to go home yesterday, fussed over leaving today now that she got to play with her friends. I'm relieved. I like coming to town and seeing our friends, but I definitely prefer our quiet life at home.

"Leaving?"

I look over my shoulder as I fold the bed linens. Rick stands in the door of the hospital room. "Oh, yeah. It was only a little dehydration."

He nods. "I'm glad it wasn't serious."

"Thank you," I fold last of the bedding in a stack at the end of the bed, "How is Michonne?"

It feels strange asking about Michonne. They've always been really pleasant to me, but still, we aren't neighborly in the strongest sense.

"She's good," He replies, "She's due soon."

I nod my head.

"How far along did you say you were?"

"Seven."

He nods again. He looks like he wants to leave; like he doesn't know what else to say. Awkward, if you can describe Rick Grimes as awkward. At least I feel awkwardness.

"Well, I'll see you around."

"Okay," I say as he starts to back away, "Um...how is he?"

Rick stops.

I bite my lip. "How has he been?"

Rick looks me over. "He's fine," He simply replies, "He lost his privileges."

I knit my brows. "What's he done?"

"He's been talking to Judith," Rick informs me, "She's been sitting on the steps above the terrace, talking to him for the last few months."

I stare. "About what?"

"Sorry?"

"What were they talking about?"

Rick seems puzzled by this, as if it shouldn't matter. "She asked about Carl."

I feel my face grown uneasy.

He scoffs to himself. "And...help with her homework."

At that, my brows gather again. "Homework?"

"Yeah, homework."

I huff, looking off in confusion. "He...he's in trouble for helping her with her homework?"

Rick gives me a look.

I come off it and sigh through my nose. "So, does that mean I can't see him?"

"I'm afraid so."

I touch my bump, troubled. I reluctantly nod as I go to leave.

"I didn't think you'd care so much."

"What?" I look his way.

"You haven't asked about him or asked to see him in months," Rick says, breaking eye contact with me, "I know you have your reasons for staying away, but I just thought-"

"You thought wrong."

He looks back at me.

I turn my head, staring out at the summer. "I...I won't ever stop wanting to see him." I peer down. "I can't ever stop wanting to."

Rick's eyes are fixed on me.

I exhale softly, but frustrated. "I know you can't understand, but that's just how it is."

Birdie lets out a laugh outside.

"I have to go," I say, "Thank you for letting me stay here."

"Sure."

On the steps, I see Birdie with Laura who's making faces at her to laugh at. I smile, going down the steps. Dog barks out of nowhere and soon comes trotting up.

"Hey, there." I give his head a friendly pet. Daryl isn't far behind.

"Dog!" Birdie is set loose out of Laura's grasp. She stops right at the dog and begins petting him gently like I taught her. "You're a good boy, Dog."

Dog gives her a couple of licks as if in response, which makes her giggle.

I spy Daryl strolling up.

"Hey." He says in his rough voice.

"Hi."

"Heard you were sick," He says, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, nothing to worry about."

He nods. "Ya know Sherry's come back?"

Dwight pulls up with our truck.

I breathe. "Yeah, I do." I steal a glance. "Why?"

He shrugs. "Thought he'd like to know, if he don't already."

I nod, knowing who he means. "She came back to the house looking for him."

Daryl looks at me, lifting a brow. "How'd that turn out?"

"What do you think?" I retort. "She thought he'd be alone."

"That why she came here?"

I shrug. "I guess...but she came back before we left yesterday. Might live in the house down the road from us."

"Huh." He grunts out.

"Bird!" Dwight calls her over. "Let's go!"

"Aw, I wanna pet Dog more."

"You can pet him more next time," I smile at her, "Your dad said to get going."

Her shoulders slump. She pets Dog two more times. "Bye, Dog. Bye, Daryl."

"Bye."

"Are you going squirrel hunting?" She inquires, pointing to the crossbow around his shoulder.

"Nah, just going out for a bit."

"Be careful." Birdie advises, before putting out her fist. "Pound it."

Daryl bumps his fist to hers. "See ya, kid."

Birdie takes off towards Dwight opening the back seat.

Laura cuts off her direct path, scooping her up in her arms. "Intercepted!"

I smile at Birdie's hardy little cackle, before looking at my belly. "Oh, the baby's kicking."

I look over and see that he's glancing down at where my hand is. I'd ask him if he wants to feel the baby kick, but I think he'd be too shy to do it.

"I'll see ya around?"

"Yeah." He gruffly says.

"Okay." I mouth, smiling mildly.

"Watch your back."

I turn halfway. "What?"

"Ya heard what I said." He tells me.

I stare for a moment, feeling an odd and disturbing chill of understanding in what he said, though I don't know why he said it.

"Nan?"

I turn forward and see Dwight standing on the driver's side, waiting.

I look back at Daryl and then walk to the truck with a sense of unease come over me.

"Nan?"

"Hm?" I look over at Dwight as I finish buckling my seatbelt.

"I asked what was wrong."

"Oh," I nod my head, before shaking it, "Nothing's wrong."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," I give him a smile, "I'm just tired from all the rest."

…

"You know, I read something interesting the other day that I think you'd appreciate." I smile, hands cuffed behind to the bars of the cell.

Gabriel huffs as he cleans out my bedpan. He's been all ass-chapped ever since I told him I thought the shit we were doing was useless.

"You know what a smell is?"

"I don't care."

"It's when odor molecules activate neurons in your nasal passages," I go on anyway, "So, everytime you change my bedban and smell my shit, something that was actually in my ass goes right your nose."

Gabe turns sharply. "Would you just shut up?!" He shouts. "It's bad enough I have to clean up your shit, I shouldn't have to listen to it, too."

"Well, hate to break it to you, Gabby, but it's part of the job."

"You are you're own worst enemy, you know that?"

"It's been said about me before."

"You asked me to help you," Gabriel scowls, "I spent an hour every Thursday for months working with you and you just throw it back in my face like an asshole because you made one mistake."

My smirk starts to fade.

He chuckles in disbelief. "You know, you were so occupied trying to make Rick and Michonne believe that you had changed that you didn't even appreciate those who already knew it."

I look at him, feeling a little ashamed. I lower my gaze as he continues to clean. "Hey, look, I'm sorry. I was just fucking with you."

"Forget it." He says, unconvinced.

"For what it's worth, I-"

"Spare me," Gabriel scoffs, "I'm done listening to you. Done wasting my time with you; they can find someone else to take care of you when Norah doesn't want to."

"Is that why she's not here now?"

"Is it a surprise?" He asks. "She requested a few days off, so Rick asked me to come instead, because he and Michonne are going to Hilltop. I was going to go to see Rosita, but someone had to be here to look after you."

"What happened to Rosita?"

"What do you care?"

"I'm asking, aren't I?"

"She got hurt on a surveying trip with Eugene," He bitterly tells me, "I should be there for her, but I have to stay here. With you."

I furrow my brows. "You and her?"

He doesn't answer, which tells me so.

"Damn…." I look over my shoulder when he drops the empty bedpan and leaves the cell, "I'm sorry."

He just scoffs again and shuts the cell door. He exits before his bodyguard can uncuff me from the bars.

I rub my sore wrists, feeling like a complete and total nuisance.

…

I spend the next few hours tossing the ball at the wall. The dinner that was left when Gabriel cleaned my bedpan is half there. I was hungry, but it wasn't Norah's cooking. I think he got it from a can or something. I don't think he'll come get the tray until the morning, which isn't as big a deal as Rick or Michonne would make it out to be.

Never once have I tried to stab anyone's eye out with a fork or spoon, although I don't know why not. It's not like I have anything to lose. Nothing to look forward to, except meals and baths. No one to look forward to, now that I've blew what little progress I had made with the power couple.

Nan won't even come to see me. I'm assuming it's because her asshole husband's on watch, but still. I thought we had worked things out the last time. I wish I could've known what I had done to make her stop coming around.

But then again, maybe I'm just a burden to her, too. An obligation she pains herself with.

Nah, that can't be true. She isn't like that. She gives a shit about me. She's practically said so...even though she hasn't been around to see me for god knows how long.

Shit, I wish she could see how I've changed, because I have changed. How I'm not the same person I was before. If I could just prove to them, to her, that I can be trusted.

I toss the ball out again, but it hits one of the bars before the wall, which slowed its bounce back. It lands short to where I couldn't reach it if I tried.

"Goddamn it." I sigh to myself. I throw the glove at the bars in defeat, rubbing my hand across my eyes.

An odd creak makes me lift my head. Am I seeing shit? I furrow my brows. No...it can't be.

I get up from my bed and walk to the bars. I inspect the door that looks like it's somehow swung open. I place my hand on the door and it moves. I fling it out. I stand there looking at the open, barless doorway. My eyes search around, skeptical.

It's unlocked. The fucking door to my cell is unlocked. Gabe must have forgotten to lock it when he stormed out earlier.

I listen to the crickets outside, which is all I hear on this quiet night.

A smile naturally forms on my face.

* * *

 **Thank for reading!**

 **I know it's been longer than usual, but I had midterms and essays due the same week and had a death in the family, so I took some time for myself.**

 **This chapter is short and underwhelming, I know, but I wanted to at least get push it through in order to get the ball rolling on what I think will be the better half of this fic.**

 **Kara315: Well...he may very well get to see her sooner than eventually lol. I do think that regardless of Negan entering that scene, Dwight will still be her dad, though Negan will certainly be salty af about it and might try to intervene. I think despite how much he's made strides to grown up, he's still got an Achilles' heel when it comes to self-control.**

 **CLTex: Sherry I think is fleshing out to be complicated. I wanted there to be a sort of eerie mystery about who she is now, which Dwight will eventually discover. Not that he isn't already doing so. Nan's intrusion and diruption of her expectations and hopes is certainly not settling well in her, especially since she seems to have held on to this reunion with Dwight for so long. As for Rick and Negan, I do intend for them to have some more interaction. Rick is sort of difficult for me to write, I don't know why, but I definitely like the dichotomy of the two and how they interaction in the comics and the show.**

 **AtlasNerd: I hope Nan's condition wasn't underwhelming. I meant it merely to be something that got them out of the house, which will have it's reasons later on (perhaps next chapter). And thank you, I appreciate the kind words.**

 **WritersBlock2018: The morning sickness is no bother compared to what they're about to go endure ahead, I assure you. These first 22 chapters have been perhaps a little too tranquil and easy for them.**


	23. Chapter 23

"Find me something yellow."

"Um….the sun!"

"Good job," Nan praises with her eyes resting, "What else is yellow?"

"Um…" Birdie's head turns this way and that way, looking out the windows to try and find something other than the sun. "I don't know."

"It doesn't have to be outside," Nan tells her, "It can be inside the car, too."

"Um...the apples." She points to the small basket of apples on the seat beside her. "And Daddy's hair and that's it."

Nan snickers with a placid smile. "Good job."

" 'Nother one, Mommy."

"Alright, let me think…find me something white."

"The clouds!"

"What else?"

"Um...my shoes and...that's it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it."

"I have to go potty."

"We're five minutes from home," I tell her, looking in the mirror, "Can you wait just a little longer?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Nan stretches in her seat. "We're home already?"

"Yep."

Her eyes open. "You weren't speeding?"

I snicker. "No, you've been dozing on and off."

"Huh." She puts her hand on her belly.

"How you feeling?" I ask her.

"Good," She yawns, "A little sleepy, but good."

"Why don't you lie down when we get home?"

"It's nearly six," She looks at the clock in the dash, "I've gotta make dinner and get Birdie ready for bed."

"I'll do all that."

"I'm hungry," Nan argues, "And I spent two days in bed resting. Don't argue with me."

"You're the only one I know who'll argue about splitting housework and taking care of the kids."

"Only because you try to do it all," She unbuckles her seatbelt as we pull up to the house, "Makes me look like a free loader."

"Siddiq told you to take it easy."

"I can make spaghetti." She opens the door behind her.

"I have to pee." Birdie tells her as I walk up to the house.

"I know, I'll take you now."

I pause just as I'm about to go inside, staring at the sliver of space between the door and the frame. I push the door open and enter quietly.

"I'm hungry."

"Okay, well, after you go potty, I'll get you a snack to tie you over."

Nothing seems to be different.

"What's the matter?"

I look behind me. "Nothing."

"It's hot in here," Nan pecks my cheek as she walks by with Birdie, "Let's open some windows."

"Yeah…"

The two of them go down the hall to the bathroom by Birdie's room.

"You stay out here."

"I know, I am." Nan brings the door to a near close, facing away from the door. She looks over my way. She gives a smile that's soon followed by a slight inquiry of her brows.

I go into the kitchen and, as quietly as I can, check the pantry, cupboards, and the fridge. Nothing looks like it's missing. I look over to the living room and from what I can see here, it all looks the same was when we left it yesterday.

My eyes peer out the window, scanning the backyard for anyone, but find no one. I sigh through my nose as I hear the bathroom door open.

"I'm hungry, Mommy."

"I'll get you an apple." Nan and Birdie come into the kitchen. "Hey, don't you dare!"

I look over. "What?"

"I said I was gonna take care of dinner and I meant it."

"Oh," I let out a chuckle, "I was just coming to wash my hands."

"Yeah, right," Nan huffs, "What do have on your hands?"

I move away from the sink, snickering. "Fine, alright, I'll go take a shower."

"That would be lovely, thank you."

I go down the hall in a humored, relaxed mood to the bedroom. I grab a towel from the closet and take a nice, hot shower. It's tiring to drive for two hours, especially since Nan and Birdie had to stop a few times to pee. Nan offered to drive halfway, but she could barely keep her eyes open the entire drive.

I step out of the steamy bathroom to get some clean clothes from the dresser. I run Nan's comb through my hair, before I go to walk back to the bathroom to get my dirty clothes off the floor.

As I pass the bed again, I stop. I turn my head, staring at the knitted blanket thrown over the left corner of the bed frame, instead of draped across the end of the bed. I know it was laid out along the end, because I made the bed before we left.

"Hey, Dwight?"

I take the blanket off the corner, quickly folding it in half, and placing back where Nan likes it to be.

"Dwight?"

"Yeah, I'm coming!"

I leave the bedroom and find Nan and Birdie in the backyard. "What's up?"

She's at the coop, basket in the crook of her elbow. Her brows are furrowed, looking in.

"What is it?"

"There aren't any eggs," She looks over at me, puzzled, "You collected them yesterday?"

"Yeah, in the morning."

"Well, where's today's lay?"

I look at the coop. "Maybe they just didn't lay any."

"They always do," Nan replies, still inspecting the inside nests, "At least some of them."

I shrug. "I don't know."

"And Emily's gone."

"Who?"

"Emily," Nan glances over with a concerned look, "The hen with the missing toe."

"I thought we agreed not to name them," I say, "In case we need to eat them."

"I didn't, Birdie did."

I look over at Birdie, who's scattering feed on the ground.

Nan shuts the door to the nests. "I'm gonna look for her before I start dinner.

"What?"

"She can't have gone too far."

"I'll do it."

"I-"

"Go and start dinner," I interrupt, "I'll go look for Emma."

"Emily."

"...Right, the hen we agreed not to name."

"And _we_ didn't," Nan says back, "Birdie did."

I search around the property for the chicken. I look beyond the house, although I grow a little doubtful that I'll find her. I don't know what unsettles me more; not finding her and having some idea of what happened to her, or having to tell Nan I didn't find her. Her coming to the same conclusion as I am won't be good.

I pause in my tracks, listening. I find I'm not mistaken; I do hear a faint, cooing bawk. My eyes scour the grounds every which way, looking for the hen.

I feel a breath of relief when I finally see Emily nestled on a bough of a tree. I climb up enough to where I can get her down. She flaps her wings for a few seconds as I get down from the tree, but after we're on the ground, she lets me tuck her under my arm and carry her home.

…

Alexandria's dead silent, except for the crickets. I don't know the time, but I'm guessing the sun's gotta be coming up soon, because of the shade of blue of the sky.

I cautiously look around as I creep through. Goddamn, this place is even more cocksucking magnificent than it was before I destroyed it. It's funny how much you think you can see from a barred window compared to what you actually fucking see.

I smell the vine from the tomatoes. I go to the garden and pluck the biggest ones I can find and put 'em in a knapsack I find hung on one of the posts. I take some corn and a few potatoes. I also take the big ass shovel out of the wheelbarrow.

I search around the place some more, cooly antsy because of the bind I'm in. I need to get the fuck out of here before anyone wakes up, but I need a lot of shit, if I'm gonna make it out there on the lamb.

I stop in front of a house, when I recognize it. Lucille always liked that color on houses. "Buttercream yellow" she'd call it. Said it made the house look inviting. Our house wasn't that color. She said she wanted it painted that yellow when we started a family, because families live in houses painted buttercream yellow. Shit, I guess she was right.

I feel my hand tighten on the shovel as I continue to look at the house. But, it loosens just as quickly and I move on.

The day starts to break when I finally make it to the front of Alexandria. I walk along the wall, until I spot a good place to climb over. Just as I'm about to hoist my ass up though, I hear the click of a hammer being pulled back. Fuck. This was a trap.

I back off the wall, slowly turning around.

"Drop the shovel."

I can't help but smile when I see Judith pointing a gun at me in her nightgown and boots. I drop the shovel to the side. "Well, shit."

"Put your hands up," Jude sternly commands, "I will shoot you."

"I don't doubt it," I chuckle, putting my hands up, "How the hell did you know I was out here?"

"I saw you from the window," She says, keeping that gun pointed right at me, "I got up to go to the bathroom."

I nod, looking her over. "You gonna make me go back?"

Her mouth twists to the side, but her eyes stay on me.

I exhale. "What if I promise that I won't harm a single person, if you let me go?" I put my hand over my heart as if to vow. "I promise I won't kill anyone, even if they try to kill me."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

I chuckle at her sauciness. "Alright, look, kid, I just wanna go on my merry way and disappear," I tell her, "I've served my purpose here long enough. This place is a fucking wonderland; proof that I am not essential and that people can and will do great things without me. And I accept that." My eyes take another look at Alexandria. "You said the other day that your parents thought I was a monster, right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, so that's how it'll always be," I say to her, "You might not think I'm a monster, but everyone else sure does and that's never gonna change, no matter what I do."

"How do you know?" She retorts. "People can change their minds."

"Yeah, well, I can't wait around that long."

"There's nothing out there, you know."

"Oh, I'd be willing to bet you you're wrong."

Judith squints a little.

I breathe. "So, you gonna make me go back? 'Cause I will, if you want me to."

"Yeah, because I'm pointing a gun at you."

"Well, yeah," I laugh, "That and I respect the hell out of you."

She continues to hold her gaze. "You promise to leave?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die." I cross my heart with my finger for good measure.

"...And you won't hurt anyone?"

"I swear I won't."

Judith lowers her gun.

I sigh. "Thank you." I turn to climb the wall.

"Do you even know where they are?"

"Pardon?" I turn my head.

"Nan and Birdie," She clarifies, "And Dwight."

I furrow my brows.

"That's where you're going, isn't it?" She asks. "To find them?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you always ask about them."

I look off. Clever girl.

"She's your daughter isn't she."

I blink back to Judith.

She stares. "Birdie."

"Yeah, she is," I tell her, "Guess you figured that out from all my asking, too, huh? You smart little shit."

"Language."

I grin. "Sorry."

"I heard my mom and dad talking about her."

I nod my head. "You have any clue where I could start looking?"

She shakes her head. "Only a few people know where they are."

"Who?"

"I don't know," She shrugs, "But what does it matter? You aren't supposed to be out, remember?"

"Right, good looking out."

"What if they don't want you around?"

"What?"

"Nan."

"Oh," I exhale, "Well, then I guess I scram."

"You'll come back here?"

"I'll think about it."

She nods. "Well, good luck. You're gonna need it."

My smiles widens. "I'm gonna miss you."

Judith doesn't reply. I figured she wouldn't. She's gotta be tough.

I scale the wall, which isn't easy to do with a fuckin' shovel in hand. I drop to the ground when I'm close enough and after picking up said shovel that I threw down once over, I take a good look at the road. It's funny how something as insignificant as a road can make your throat ache.

I head down the road, off to the side in case I need to hide from any upcoming cars. I look down at my suit. I'll definitely need to find something to change into. Even if I run into people who don't know who I am, my fuckin' prison suit is gonna make shit rather obvious.

…

The house is dark, except for the lantern on the front porch. I see her there, working on something in her hand. Anger rises up in me and I pick up the pace.

"Sherry."

She looks over nonchalantly, before returning to her task, which angers me even more now that I see what she's doing.

"Did you break into my house?"

"Don't you mean our house?" She raises a brow, flicking eggshells off the porch as she peels them off a boiled egg.

"Why were you there?" I demand to know. "Did you know we were gone? Were...were you watching the house?"

"The door was unlocked."

"You think we still have the damn keys?" I exhale, frustrated. "Why were you there?"

"I was looking for some of my things," She looks sharply at me, "You might have moved your little family into the house, but that doesn't mean you can just give that woman my shit." She peels off more shell. "Not that she could fit in anything of mine."

I scoff. "Grow up; she's pregnant."

"So she does where my clothes when she's not the size of a-"

"Why are you being like this?" I cut her off. "Nan's not done anything to you."

"She took my husband," She says bitterly, "And my life."

I lick my lips, looking over at the truck parked a few feet away. "Where'd you get the truck?"

She shrugs. "I found it."

"Where?"

"On the road."

"You didn't tell me you made your way up to Pennsylvania."

"I didn't."

"The truck's got Pennsylvania plates."

"And?" She scoffs. "You think there can't be cars from other states around here? That people didn't leave their homes, looking for a safe place?"

I nod my head, biting my cheek. "You can't steal from us, Sherry."

"It was only a few eggs," She coldly says, "You'll have more by tomorrow."

"That's not the point, I…" I breathe angrily, "I don't want you coming around there."

Sherry looks up at me.

"I want you to stay away from Nan and Birdie."

She huffs, offended. "What? You think I wanna do something to them?"

I look at her. "Do you?"

"Do you think I want to?" She retorts, staring cold at me.

"You broke into our home," I tell her, "Did you go through her things?"

"Did she notice?"

"So, you did?"

"I was looking for my clothes."

"She doesn't wear your clothes," I scoff, "She has her own. You took your clothes when you ran off and came here, so why were you going through our room?" I stare, thinking of something more disturbing. "Did you go through my daughter's room?"

"I looked in."

"Why?"

"To see what it looked like."

I run my hand down my mouth. A rage fills my lungs, but I keep calm.

"You weren't there," She says, "I would have asked for the eggs, if you had been."

I blink back to this woman on the porch. "You stay away from my family."

She scoffs again, before her eyes become hurt by my severity. "D, why are you looking at me like that?" She lowers her hands to her lap. "Like you don't know who I am?"

The anger diffuses a little. I cover my eyes as my breath drags. "I can't deal with this shit right now. I've got a wife and a daughter and another baby on the way, so I can't have you coming into our house, stealing food and-and moving things around how they used to be."

"It was my house, too."

"Well, it's not anymore," I frankly say, "It's mine and Nan's house. The past is the past, Sherry. We both made choices and now we have to live with the fact that we can't be together because of 'em."

She stares, eyes glistening with tears.

"Look, I won't tell Nan that you went through the house, but you have to keep a distance. Maybe you should consider going back to one of the communities."

"I told you, I -"

"Yeah, I know what you told me," I cut her off, "Maybe try somewhere other than Alexandria." I turn around to head back. "But you can't come back home."

As I walk off, I heard a crash, like a pan knocking over and a door slam violently.

 **...**

"And they lived happily ever after," I gently close the book, "The end."

"Another one."

"Another one?" I set the book down, "But we've already read five tonight." I brush her hair back with my hand. "How about we go to bed and tomorrow I'll read you six stories?"

"Um...okay."

"Okay," I bring the blankets up to her chest, "All nice and cozy?"

"Yeah."

"Good," I lean down and kiss her forehead, "I love you."

"Love you."

I hum a little song to help her go to bed. Just about the time I leave her bedroom, the front door opens, meaning Dwight's back from his perimeter check. I hear him lock the door like he always does.

I smile when he comes into sight. "Hey, that was longer than usual."

"Yeah." He locks all the windows at the front of the house, before moving towards the kitchen.

I follow him, watching him lock the back door as well as the windows. He then moves to the living room, placing this wooden dowel in the track of the slider door, which will prevent the door from opening. Even with that there, he still locks the door.

He moves past me and down the hall. I follow, curious. "Dwight?"

"Yeah?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just locking up before bed." He goes to enter Birdie's room.

"Hold on, I just got her down."

"I've gotta lock the window in her room."

"It's already locked."

"I'm gonna double check."

"D, I did that already," I move in front of the door, "I locked it when she was putting on her pajamas."

"I just wanna-"

"Dwight," I get him to look at me, "I promise, it's locked. And I also promise that if you go in there and wake her up, you're gonna be sleeping on the couch."

He goes to protest, before sighing and nodding his head. "Okay, fine."

I smile, going down the hall with him as we go to the bedroom. He locks all the windows in there, too, even the small window in the bathroom that doesn't really ever need to be locked because no human being could ever fit to climb through.

"All secure?"

"Yeah." He sits down on the bed to take off his shoes.

I move towards him. I smell his hair. "You smell good."

"Do I?"

I snicker. "Yeah, like the outside at night."

"Glad you like that smell," He stands up to undress, "Because I'm too tired to shower again."

"How was the check?"

"It was fine," He says, "Same old, same old."

"Okay." I breathe.

He looks over. "Why?"

"I just thought maybe you were worried or something," I tell him, "You came home and started locking everything up."

"I always lock up."

"I know, but you just seemed…" I shrug, "I don't know, a little riled up."

"Oh…" He continues to take his clothes off, "It's cold out; I was just shaking it off."

"Okay," I return to my side of the bed, "Thank you for saving Emily."

"You need anything while I'm up?"

"No."

When he lays down, I lay beside him. He looks over at me, moving hair behind my ear. He looks on me for a few moments. When I smile, he kisses my lips.

"I'm gonna stick around for a few days, so you have time to recover."

"I'm fine," I snicker, "It was only a little dehydration."

"Well, I'm gonna stick around anyway."

"I'm not gonna argue with that."

He pecks my lips. "I love you."

"Love you, too." I say, before I chuckle.

"What?"

"Nothing, just sometimes I think we're too cute."

Dwight smiles, humored.

"It's a good thing we live alone, because we'd make anyone who had to listen to us sick."

…

I heave forward, puking up the dirty water into the dirt. I upchuck a few more time, feeling my insides burn with all my retching. I sit on my knees for a minute after I'm done to catch my breath. I stopped off at a creek for a drink and I guess it was bad, because about half an hour later, my stomach started to blanche. I'm just lucky I threw it up, instead of getting the shits.

I look up and my eyes survey the familiar clearing. I pick up the shovel and use it to help me stand, turning my back on the place.

I found some clothes at a shop a few miles out. It's weird, I thought I'd love getting out of my suit, but it was not as easy as I thought. Well, for one, one of the buttons got stuck and it took me longer than I care to admit to get undone. And I also got a little anxious about taking it off. It's the only suit I've worn for three years. But I had to, so I did.

I know the river isn't far from here, so I'm gonna get to it. Nan said she found Rick while they were at the river, so it has to mean they live near the river. All I gotta do is find it and follow it up. I know it's gotta be upward because if you go any farther down, you reach the ocean and all the fucking people who would kill me, if they saw me out in the open without Rick or Michonne around. Or maybe I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about and will wind up falling off a cliff, but I'll take as long as it takes to find my kid. But first, I need to make a stop.

I walk a few miles until I reach a gas station, where I need to look for some water. I wind up finding jack shit with the exception of a dirtbike with half a thing of gas. I rev it up to ride it down the road.

I've never actually rode one of these things before, but I balance alright. It's like riding a bike, except I don't have to break a sweat to pedal.

I smile as I think about how fast I'll be able to find them once I know where the river's at. How fast I'll be able to leave that cell and the past behind me. Start a new life with my daughter. I'll miss the kid, though.

When I reach The Sanctuary, I stop at the gates. The place looks like a fuckin' ghost town. It's completely silent and there are no traces of living or dead. You can't even hear the wind blow or birds chirping here. Everyone and everything has left.

I push the gates open and walk up to the factory. There won't be anyone inside, I know that, I just have to see it for myself. One of the front doors is open a ways, so I budge it open enough for me to get inside. It's fucking freezing inside, which was how it always was.

A dripping echoes off the walls. I stroll up to the rusted yellow railing, whistling like I did when I was in my prime. The floor is empty, no longer teeming with people moving and working at my command. No one's kneeling before me. Instead, the factory floor is vacant with the exception of broken glass, puddles from a leaky roof, and ruined furniture left behind.

My head turns to the right towards the hall that leads to the stairs. I follow it and climb all the way to the very top. When I reach the stairwell that will lead me up to my old home, I want to feel a sense of nostalgia, like a homecoming, but I can't bring myself to it. I know this was the first place to empty when I left. I fight the door open and stumble a little into the bleak hallway. I go down it, peering into the rooms for no reason. I go into my old bedroom, which is completely empty, except for the dresser that's been shoved over and the bedframe.

I lift the dresser up, curious to see if I'll find anything, but all I find is some socks and underwear. I take 'em, because I need 'em. It's not weird, they're my skivvies. It'd be weird if someone else took 'em.

The nightstand is gone, which worries me, because there was shit in there that meant something to me. I don't like thinking anybody had it and destroyed it, or has it for their own use or amusement. Maybe Nan has all of it. I could only hope, I guess.

Thinking of Nan prompts me to go hers and Birdie's room. Both the bed and the crib are gone, along with the rest of the nursery. Of course, they took it, but the barrenness of the room saddens me. I have to leave the top floor after being in there.

I'm able to hold it all back going down. Once back to the floor, I turn a fallen back couch right side up and sit down. It's then that I can start to feel the tears come creeping out and then that I don't fight 'em. Staring at the emptiness of a place that was once great and great because of me, freshens up the loss I felt when I first woke up after having my throat cut.

I really did think I was doing a good thing here. I did want people to stop dying. But the world wasn't as easy as planting tomatoes. I saw what people could do to others when left unchecked and I saw people dying because they couldn't fucking function without someone around to give them structure.

I don't know which I hated more; the people who would do vile fucking things to the weak, or the weak who couldn't fucking defend themselves. Fuck, sometimes the weak and cowardly were more dangerous than the openly deplorable. All I knew was that people were too fucking stupid and awful to live without someone to lead them and it sure as fuck couldn't be some sweetheart. " _Speak softly while carrying a big stick"_. That's what Teddy said. Okay, I never speak softly, but it still applies.

I'm not ashamed of what I accomplished, but I do know that the things I did to make it all happen and maintain it were wrong. I've had enough time to realize that in the three years that I sat in a cell with nothing to do, no one depending on me. There were times, like when Carl died, that I did doubt myself for a moment, but I was always able to redirect. That's the thing; when you're down in it, you never think you're the bad guy. It's when you get pulled out that you get new perspective.

I sniff up. Nan made me think about it, too, which is probably why I got my throat cut in the first place. Rick lying to me about ending the war with a different vision, Carl's vison, made me think back to all she said to me before I left that day. I sometimes wish it had gone that way. I sometimes wish I could have done something to make her proud of me.

I gotta get up from this musty couch. I gotta go find them and make shit right. If I owe it to anyone to prove that I'm a different man than I was three years ago, it's her. I did some shitty fuckin' things to a lot of people, but what I did to Nan still keeps me up at night.

I get up from the couch, wiping a few stray tears away to leave this place. Outside, a rotter wanders aimlessly in the yard. I smirk when I recognize him.

"Damn, is that you, Big Ritchie?"

The rotter turns my way and straggles towards me. I find a crowbar on the ground and pick up to whack it against Ritchie's decaying head. I take one last glance up at my factory, before heading out.

Half a mile from the factory, I spot a small figure in the distance. At first, I thinks it's a walker, but when it doesn't move, I look closer.

"What the fu-"

 _Bang!_

"Shit!" I swerve to avoid the bullet, but end up losing my balance and skidding off the road with the bike. I groan as I move.

"I told you I'd shoot."

"Yeah, you sure as shit did, kid." I sit up, wincing at the pain. "Fuck."

"Language," She chides, "I'm a kid, asshole."

I chuckle, despite the wind being knocked out of me. "Well, excuse me, but I just got shot at by an eight year old and thrown from a bike."

"I told you there was nothing out here."

"Have you been following me?"

"I figured you'd go to The Sanctuary."

I scoff. "Well, you're right about that, too. There is nothing from the past out here for me."

"Does that mean you'll come back?"

I look over at her. "Do they know I'm gone?"

"Yes."

"Shit," I run my hand down my mouth, "I can't go back, Jude. I have to find my kid."

"You don't even know where they are," She says, "My dad could find you before then. It's better if you go back on your own than if they find you trying to run."

"Yeah, you're definitely right about that, but I can't go back."

Judith sighs, putting her gun in her holster. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Wouldn't think of it." I grunt like an old man getting up from the dirt. "Well, I think you ruined my bike."

"I had to make you stop."

I chuckle. "I gonna miss you, Miss Grimes. You're a hell of a girl."

She smiles very subtly, trying to maintain her tough exterior. Her returns to being serious. "You won't tell my mom and dad that I let you go, if you get caught, right?"

"Ouch," I feign a pain in my heart, "I'm offended you'd take me as a lousy snitch. I thought we were pals."

She twists her mouth to the side. "Are you sure you want to go? What if Nan goes to my dad once you show up?"

"She wouldn't do that."

"How do you know?"

"Because Nan's not a lousy snitch either," I dust myself off, "Then again, her rat bastard of a husband might, but that's nothing we can't deal with once we get to it."

Judith puts her hand on her gun. "You promised you wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Relax, I'm kidding," I tell her, "Worse case scenario, I can't convince either of them to let me stay and go back to my cell."

"What if he kills you?"

I shrug, weighing on that. "He very well might." I grin. "I gotta go."

"Promise you'll come back, if it doesn't work out."

"I already promised you that."

"Shake on it." She puts her hand out.

I look at her little hand and laugh a little. I give her mine and shake it firmly. "Alright, it's a deal."

Judith nods, satisfied. "See ya."

"See ya." I pick up the crowbar and my rucksack. "Say, you got any water on you?"

"No, but there the river's two miles down that way." She points to the road.

"Really?" I smirk to myself.

"Yeah, there's a fork in the road," Judith informs me, "You wanna go right."

…

I wake up to the sound of a drawer opening. Dwight's sitting up on his side of the bed. My eyes lull as I try to focus on him.

"Dwight?"

He turns his head. "Yeah?"

"Do you have the aspirin in your nightstand?"

"No, remember, I put it in yours, so you didn't have to wake me up every time you needed one."

"Oh, yeah." I sleepily roll over to the other side, getting into the top drawer. "What are you doing up?"

"It's eight; we slept in."

I groan, covering my eyes.

"Did you not sleep well?"

"Not really, no," I sit up in bed to take my aspirin with the half glass of water on my nightstand, "My back's been aching."

"You want me to run a bath?"

"I can do it," I rub the sleepiness from my eyes, "Or maybe I'll just take a shower. Sometimes letting the stream hit my back helps."

As I walk around the bed to go to the bathroom, Dwight closes his top drawer. He meets my gaze and smiles a little as I pass. I smile back, but stop right before I go in.

"Um, Dwight?"

"Yeah?"

I tap my toes on the bathroom tile in sync with my finger against the doorframe. "The missing eggs from yesterday?"

He stares, waiting for me to go on.

"Um…"I bite the corner of my lip, "Did Sherry take them?"

His brows gather a little.

"I'm not accusing her, or anything, but the chickens lay eggs every day and so I don't think they just forgot to yesterday and I-"

"Yeah, she took them."

I pause, looking over.

He stands up from the bed. "I asked her about it last night and she admitted to it."

"O-oh."

He brushes past me to get into the bathroom. "Don't worry about it, I told her not to come back."

I puzzle my brows. "You did?"

"Yep." He reaches for his toothbrush.

I lean my back against the wall as he brushes his teeth. "How come?"

Dwight spits into the sink. "Because I'm not gonna stand for her stealing from us."

I nod my head, going to the sink to brush my teeth as well. "Well...she was probably just hungry."

"It doesn't matter." He hands me the toothpaste.

I brush my teeth without another word about it. Something else must have happened or was said to make Dwight react like that. I mean, he can be pretty distrusting of a lot of people, but Sherry? I guess I should stay out of it. I know there's some hostility about Dwight living here with me.

I start the shower and let it heat up as I undress. "You know, you should maybe get in, too, if you want hot water. There might not be any after I get out."

I step in and after a few seconds, so does he.

"Hand me the soap?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

"You want me to get your back?"

"Yeah."

"What happened here?"

"What?"

"You've got a bruise right here."

"Oh, probably from climbing up to get the chicken out of the tree."

"Okay; here."

"Thanks."

I watch as he glides the bar of soap along his wet body as the hot water pelts against my back. "You need me to switch places?"

"Yeah, just for a minute."

"Wash your hair first."

"I can't, my hair isn't wet enough."

"Okay, fine."

"Why did you offer if you were gonna argue about it?"

"I'm not arguing," I chuckle as we awkwardly maneuver around one another, "I just thought you'd multitask while you're standing there."

"My hair wasn't wet," He laughs, "You almost just knocked me out of the shower."

"Well, I'm pregnant, what do you want me to say?" I take the soap from him, "Sorry my baby got in your way?"

He chuckles, tipping his head back under the stream. "Where's the shampoo?"

"Right here," I grab up the glass bottle, "Here, I'll do it, since you think it's such a pain in the ass."

"I don't know why we can't just have regular shampoo."

"Because the shelf life has expired on most of what they find and the one's that still have a few months left are harder to come by, because everyone wants them," I pop open the bottle, "It's a hot commodity these days, so we have to make our own now."

"This shit stinks."

"The mint and rosemary take away from the apple cider vinegar smell," I smell the bottle, "And nettles are good for your scalp."

"I can still smell the vinegar."

"Well, if you'd use the conditioner I made, you wouldn't have that problem."

"I don't like the smell of lavender." Dwight takes the bottle.

"It's neroli."

"Well, whatever it is, I don't like it."

"I think you're just being a baby." I massage the rinse into his hair, since he always complains that it doesn't do anything, even though his hair always manages to get clean. "There, now rinse."

I lather the soap and run it all over me while Dwight washes his hair. "Can you get my back?"

"Yeah, turn around."

I turn and Dwight's touch as he gently brings the soap over my back feels good. "Could you massage right there for just a moment?"

"Right here?"

"Yeah," I nod, closing my eyes, "The ache is coming from right there."

Dwight gingerly kneads that spot on my lower back for a few minutes.

"Okay," I sigh, "Let me back over to rinse off."

"Did it help any?"

"Yeah, it did. Thank you." I smile at him as we switch sides.

Dwight stands there in the shower, while I wash off the suds. I look back over at him and smile again. He steps closer and brings me in. I let him hold me, kissing his wet bicep. He kisses me on the lips. I kiss him back and we both start to get a little more steamy.

The shower curtain opens, making me jump. "Birdie!"

Dwight quickly pulls the curtain closed.

"What are you doing in the shower at the same time?" She asks curiously.

"Conserving water." I tell her with blazing cheeks, staring at Dwight. "Honey, you can't just open the curtain like that when people are in the shower."

"How come?"

"Because it's rude." I shut off the water.

"You're naked," Birdie says, "I saw."

"Birdie, get out of the bathroom." Dwight orders.

We hear her footsteps pad out. Dwight peeks to make sure and then grabs our towels.

"I'm so embarrassed."

"Why? Birdie sees you naked all the time." Dwight wraps a towel around his waist.

"But not the two of us together," I fret, "What if we were...doing something? And do you know how mortifying it is to see your dad naked?"

"She barely saw anything because we were close together and because I drew the curtain back. And I think she's too young to know to be 'mortified'."

"So, you're not embarrassed?"

"A little, yeah, but I'm not gonna make a big deal out of it," He brings back the curtain, "You harping about it kind of makes it worse."

"Sorry." I tread out to the bedroom, where Birdie's at, laying on her tummy on the bed.

"Mommy, I saw you and Daddy naked." She reminds me with her head in hands as she kicks the air.

"Yes, I know you did."

"You were hugging," She tells me, "And kissing."

I shut my eyes at the dresser with an exhale. "Yes, I know. Mommies and daddies do that sometimes."

"Why?"

"Because they love each other," I wince at myself sounding like my parents when I walked in on them, "Birdie, could you go out for a minute?"

"Why?" She asks innocently.

"Because I'd like to dress in private."

"Why?"

I realize that might sound a little strange to her. Dwight's right; she does see me naked a lot, but that's only because I have to keep the door open when I shower and dress when Dwight's not home to keep an eye, or ear, on her.

I exhale. "Nevermind, just turn around, please."

"Okay." Birdie covers her eyes and puts her head down on the bed to give me privacy. "I'm not peeking, Mommy."

"Thank you." I double check, just to make sure she's being honest.

The door to the bathroom, where Dwight's getting dressed, is shut. I get dressed as fast as I can, because I know Birdie will bring her head up any moment. The bathroom door opens right as I bring my shirt over my bump.

"Hey, Daddy, Mommy's getting dressed!"

"It's okay, I'm done."

"You hear a car outside?"

I look over at Dwight and then the window, listening. "I think so."

Dwight heads to the front of the house.

I follow not far behind him. I take Birdie's hand. "Who is it?"

"It's Hal," Dwight furrows his brows, "But he's got Rick with him."

"What?" I go to the window beside him, staring out at the two men getting out of the truck. Laura comes around from the other side.

They approach the front door and as they do, I go to it, opening it just before Hal can knock.

"Mornin'."

"Hey," I reply sheepishly, "What are you doing here?" I glance briefly over at Rick who's peering off, before I mouth; "With Rick?"

"Can we come in?"

"Uh, sure." I step aside.

Hal and Laura come in. "Hal!"

"Hey, Pidge!"

Rick looks over at the noise and then meets my gaze. He nods, hand on his belt. The kind of way cops do when they come to issue some bad news. "Morning."

"Morning." I greet back. As he passes to come inside, I feel a brush of anxiety.

"Hey."

"Hey." Dwight's eyes move to mine as Rick walks in.

"This is a nice home." He remarks, looking about the front entryway.

"Thank you." I say, staring at his back with a bad feeling.

"Hal, I saw my mommy and daddy naked."

"You did?" Hal entertains her in the kitchen.

"Yeah, Mommy's belly is really big."

"Yeah?" He kisses her cheek. "Why's that?"

"Um, because she's gonna have a baby."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," He snickers, "I forgot."

"No, you didn't." She giggles.

"I truly did," Hal teases, "I just thought she was hiding a melon under her shirt."

The three of them laugh. "What do you want your mom to have?" Laura asks. "A boy or girl, B?"

"Um...neither."

"Neither?" Laura laughs.

I clear my throat as we enter the kitchen. "Do either of you want any coffee, or tea?"

"I'll have a cup." Hal answers, leaning against the counter with Birdie in his arms.

"I'm good, thanks." Laura replies.

I nod, looking over at Rick. "Um, would you like anything?"

"No," He shakes his head curtly, "Thank you."

I nervously go to the stove to put the kettle on. I feel eyes on me.

"Mommy, I'm hungry."

"Okay, I'll make you something to eat."

Dwight clears his throat now. "So, uh, what brings you by?"

He says so in a tone that seems casual, but also asks the same thing I want to know. What is Rick doing here?

I turn from the stove for the answer.

Hal sets Birdie down. "Hey, Pidge, why don't you go play?" He reaches into his coat pocket. "Look what I have for you."

He produces a rubix cube.

"It's a block!" Birdie takes it, looking the design over.

"It's a puzzle," He tells her, "You gotta get all the sides to be the same color." He shows her how to move it. "Think you're up for it?"

"Yeah…" She says, turning the sides.

"That's my girl," He smiles, "Go in the other room and don't come back until you figured it out."

" 'Kay." Birdie leaves.

He looks over at me and gives me a smile that makes my unease worsen.

I read the room. Laura, Hal, and Rick all know something, but it's like they don't know who should tell me.

"What's going on?" I finally ask.

"Uh, well," Hal starts, "We've got a little bit of a problem going on at-"

"Negan's gone." Rick tells me straight up.

My breath presses against me. "Gone?"

"Yeah," Rick nods at me, "We found the cell door open early this morning; he's escaped."

I knit my brows.

"What?" Dwight takes the words out of my mouth.

"We've got people looking all over for him, but so far we haven't found any trace of him."

"Except for at the Sanctuary," Laura chimes in, "We figured he might go there."

"And?"

"We found bike tracks," She shrugs, "And one of the doors was open. He was there, but not when we got there."

I look up at Laura, and then Hal, and then finally at Rick. My eyebrows unfurl. "You came up here?" I inquire. "To look for him?"

"He talks about you," Rick begins, "And...Birdie." He says her name in a lower voice. "A lot."

The way he says that makes me uncomfortable as well as a little irritated.

He shrugs. "I can't think of another place he'd be heading, if not here."

"Did you check along the roads?" Dwight asks.

"A little, but we wanted to get up here as fast as we could." Laura reports.

"Well, he's not here," I scoff, "He doesn't even know where we are."

"You never mentioned it to him?" Rick asks me, shrugging. "During one of the times you talked to him?"

"Never."

He nods, looking me over.

"Is this because I disagreed with his privileges getting taken away?" I ask him. "I-I care about him, so I, what? Sprung him free?"

"I'm not saying that."

"Then why are you here?" I argue. "You just assumed that he would be here having breakfast with us?"

"I thought if he did know, he'd come here, yes, but not peacefully."

I scoff again. "You think he'd hurt us?"

"You don't?"

"He's not a monster."

Rick scoffs. "I beg to differ."

"Well, I beg to differ back."

What little smile he has, goes.

I touch my bump, frustrated. "So, what? You gonna stay and wait to see if he does comes? Because I think you should go."

"Nan." Dwight says calmly.

"No, how dare you?" I put a hand out to pause Dwight, while keeping my eyes on Rick. "Dwight and I have been honest people, trying to raise a family and live a nice, quiet life two hours away from the nearest doctor, because you let Daryl makes us leave. We have never given you reason not to trust us. _I_ have never given you reason. Have I?"

Rick looks off. "No."

"So, then why are you standing here in my house, asking me if I ever said anything that would invite Negan here?" The kettle starts to make a whistling sound. I turn off the stove. "What kind of tea, Hal?"

"Actually, I think we're leaving."

I turn back around and see Rick's leaving the room. He pauses right before crossing into the entryway, but doesn't say another word.

Hal looks into the living room. "Come say goodbye, dear!"

"Aw, you're leaving?"

"Yeah, we've got our hands full."

"I'm still playing, Hal." Birdie shows him the rubix cube.

"That's alright, you can keep at it," He musses her hair, "You'll probably figure it out before me, anyway."

"Bye, Laura."

"Bye, B." Laura pounds knuckles with Birdie, before looking my way. "We'll keep you posted, if we find him."

I nod silently, still fuming.

"Nan…" She bites her lip. "We didn't think you would."

"I know."

"It's not that he thinks you would either," Hal chimes in, "Really. It's just-"

"I had his baby," I hold my elbows, "And I don't hate him, so I get it."

"Anna." Hal exhales.

"No, it's okay," I run my finger under my nose, "I get it. I'm fine."

The two of them look at me, somewhat sympathetic. Hal nods. "Okay. Take care."

"Bye." I'm so upset, I can't walk them out for fear that I'll not be able to keep my cool manner.

Dwight stares at me, like he's been doing the whole time, before he follows them out. He says something that sounds apologetic, followed by some other exchange of words.

"Mommy, make the block the same colors." Birdie comes back in.

"Later, baby," I pet her head, "I'm gonna make breakfast."

"Okay."

The front door closes.

Dwight comes back to the kitchen.

"Daddy, here."

I go to the sink to wash my hands.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"...Okay."

I dry my hands. When I turn, he's looking thoughtfully at the puzzle, but not in the mind to solve it. Birdie's gone off somewhere. "Are you? Okay?"

He shrugs. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I bite my lip. "You aren't concerned that Negan is out there somewhere?"

"Aren't you?" He turns the cube between his fingers.

"Of course, I am."

Dwight looks up.

"How could you think I'm not?"

"I don't think that. I just..." He glances back down, "I've always known you saw him from time to time, but I...I don't know, it's strange to think that I'm the only one who was on the out about it. I've never had to hear about it before now."

"Oh…" I nod, touching my fingers.

"You care about him?"

I meet his eyes. "In some way."

He nods his head, going back to the cube. "How come you never told me?"

"I didn't think you'd want to hear it."

"You told Rick."

I wince a little. "I'm sorry. It's not like I talk to him about it, but the other day when he said he didn't think I'd want to see Negan again, I…"

Dwight glances back up. "You what?"

"I...told him I'd always want to."

"Oh." He nods.

"Are you upset?"

"No."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it."

I walk over to him. I take the rubix cube from him and put my arms around him. "I am scared."

"I know."

"I'm hungry!" Birdie complains as she runs over to us.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I give a chuckle, "How about some oatmeal?"

"Okay!"

"Okay, oatmeal it is." I watch as Dwight goes to the kitchen door. "Where you going?"

"To go get the eggs."

"Oh, right."

"I'll come, too." Birdie follows. The two of them go outside to the backyard.

I go back to the sink to get some water for the oatmeal. I watch them by the coops for awhile, but soon my eyes look forward, past the yard and into the woods.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Sorry for the delay.**

 **AtlasNerd: Thank you! I sometimes feel like the humdrum is boring for many (I keep telling myself to move it along to the fun/dramatic stuff already lol) but I'm glad you enjoy it.**

 **Kara315: Me too! I'm excited for him to reach Dwight and Nan's home and finally get to see Birdie. I think Daryl still holds on to the Dwight and Sherry he knew from before, where he wanted to help them and then they both betrayed him, so he's got some leeriness to Sherry and Dwight being around one another in a way. They both are troublemakers, to some degree. He may also have picked up on bad vibes when she same in.**

 **CLTex: Yes, she definitely does have a nasty side, undoubtedly from all the shit she went through at the Sanctuary (although she did her own share of damage there) coupled with being on her own for a long time. And yeah, Nan will have to watch her back, as Daryl advised. Unfortunately, Nan isn't volatile or self-equipped in dangerous situations.**

 **Finfunny:I'm glad you enjoy my fics! It means a lot to hear such kindness. I feel I've been going through a bit of rut with this story and Out of the Ash due to balancing school and work, but it's so nice to hear you like them. I know, Nan is a hot mess at times. She's not like Pippa or any of the actual female characters from the show, comics in the sense that she is the badass female. Her accomplishments are more internal and even those are not always locked down. But, I gotta love her and her softness will be something addressed later on in the story.**


	24. Chapter 24

I've spent most of the morning in the bathroom. The morning sickness didn't end after my trip to Alexandria. I have the packets and vitamins to help me stay hydrated, which has helped me feel less depleted, but I'm still throwing up as soon as I wake up.

The worst part is the toothpaste. Dwight got us a new tube the last time we were in town, but he doesn't pay attention to the flavor, so he got cinnamon. It tastes like those hot candies my brother used to trick me into eating as kids. I always get the regular mint kind without the fancy stripes, but I have to use this tube up before we can get another.

Birdie's playing with the puzzle her dad made for her birthday in the living room.

"Hey, where's Daddy?"

"Feeding the chickens."

"How come you're not out with him?"

"Because Daddy said no."

"No?" I look out the sliding glass door to the backyard, where I can make him out by the coops.

"Mommy, here."

I glance back down at her extending the "R" block. "You want me to help you?"

"Yeah."

I sit down on the couch. "Alright, bring it up here."

Birdie picks up the wooden slab and knocks the letters off when she tilts it to the side. "Uh-oh."

"That's okay, we can do it together."

Dwight comes in through the kitchen door with the basket I put the eggs in under his arm.

"Daddy!"

He sets the eggs by the sink. "One second, baby."

"I'm not a baby." She says in a much milder way than she usually retorts, before she goes back to the puzzle on her lap.

I run my hand through her messy bedhead, watching Dwight as he washes the eggs in the sink.

"Here."

"Where does this one go?" I ask her, taking the "E" block.

"Um, I don't know."

"Look at the shape it is," I hold it in front of her, "Do you see any other shape like that on the board?"

"Um…" Birdie takes the block and studies the board intensely. "Here."

"Good job!" I praise with a smile. "Go ahead and put it there."

"Okay," She fits the block over the space, "Pound it."

"You're so smart."

"Yeah."

I chuckle, kissing her head. "So modest, too." I touch my belly. "The baby's kicking."

"It is?"

"Yeah, you wanna feel?"

"Yeah." Birdie moves the puzzle away, getting up on her knees.

"Okay, put your hand right there."

Birdie places her hand on the side of my bump.

"Do you feel it?"

Her eyes stay fixed on her hand, but she doesn't say anything.

"Bird?"

She nods her head, removing her hand.

"What's the matter, Pigeon?"

"I don't want you to have another baby, Mommy."

Her eyes seem to tear up a little.

"Oh, Birdie," I sigh, putting my arm around her, hugging her to me, "It's gonna be okay. I promise."

Dwight comes into the living room, drying his hands on a rag. "Alright, what do you want for breakfast?" He looks up when Birdie doesn't answer. "What's wrong with her?"

"Oh, nothing," I tell him, smiling plainly as I hold her, "We're just a little sad we're not gonna be an only child anymore."

"Oh," He nods, "Are you up for eating breakfast?"

"I think so."

"Oatmeal okay?"

"Yeah," I look at Birdie, petting her head, "Did you hear that? Daddy's gonna make oatmeal?"

Birdie lifts her face from my shoulder.

I wipe the soft trail of tears away. "Does that sounds good to you, or should we eat something else?"

"No, I want oatmeal."

"Okay."

"Come on, come help me." Dwight offers his hand out to her.

"No," Birdie croaks, putting her arms back around me, "I want Mommy."

I kiss her salty cheek. "Let's go help Daddy. You'll feel better." I pick her up and carry her into the kitchen.

We spend the rest of the morning inside between the kitchen and the living room. Birdie occupied my side after feeling the baby move. That's one of two of her typical reactions. The other one is delighted at the phenomenon of feeling the baby kick inside me and inarguably the more favorable outcome.

"Ouch, you gotta be gentle, Pidge."

"'Kay." Birdie runs the comb down my hair.

"Don't tug on the tangles."

"I don't want to comb your hair no more."

"You only got the back of my head."

"Here." She hands me the comb.

"Brat," I chuckle, taking the comb, "I combed your hair."

"I'm your baby." She lays her head on the top of mine, hugging her arms around my neck.

"I thought you were a big girl?"

"I am a big girl." She sweetly pecks the top of my head like I do with her. "I wanna go out and play."

"You do?" I push myself from off the floor against the couch.

"Yeah!"

I groan a little as I stretch. "I have to go to the bathroom before we do anything."

"You pee too much."

"Well, so would you if you had a baby sitting on your bladder." I go to my bedroom. Dwight's putting away some of his laundry he took off the line. "Boy, you've been busy this morning."

"Yeah." He replies, closing his drawer.

I put my hands behind my back. "You know, Birdie's getting a little bored inside. I thought I'd take her out to swing. Is that okay?"

He looks at me. "Why are you asking me?"

I shrug. "So, it's okay?"

Dwight huffs. "Yeah, it's fine. Why are you asking my permission?"

I shrug again. "I have to pee."

I go to the bathroom to relieve my aching bladder. When I come out, Birdie's on the bed.

"Are you standing on the bed?"

"No." She scrunches her nose with a bratty smile, defiantly standing on the bed.

"You just think you are too funny, don't you?" I take her off the bed, peppering her with kisses.

She cackles. "Yeah!"

"You are so cute," I set her down, "Go get dressed and we'll go play outside."

"Yay!" She runs over to Dwight. "Daddy, come play with us."

"I will after I'm done working."

"No, now, Daddy."

"I've gotta go catch dinner."

"You're going down to the river?"

"Just for an hour or so," He tells me, "See if I can catch us some trout."

"Oh, okay," I shift my weight on each foot, "We'll go with you."

"What?"

"Birdie needs a little fresh air," I go to the dresser, "It's always nice down by the river."

"The fish won't bite if there's too much noise, Nan."

"Oh, we'll be quiet."

"No, I'm going alone."

I look at him.

"I wasn't gonna take the truck to save gas and Birdie can't make the walk and neither can you seven months pregnant."

I stare, taken back by his plain tone. "...You don't want us to go?"

"No." He shakes his head.

I nod, a little irked. "Okay."

I leave the bedroom in silence.

…

"Jesus," I squint as the sun beats down right in my face, "Fuck you, Sun."

It's so fucking hot. I've been sweating my dick off all damn day. My sweat-drenched clothes cling to me, which makes the B.O. stench worse.

I keep stopping every now and then to drink from the river I finally found, but it hardly does me any good when I've been walking for the past two days.

I've got all I want in water, but I'm fucking starving. I've been living off roasted acorns and fish the past few days. I never was much of a hunter and I don't much care for fish, but they're easier to catch. Problem is I keep getting the scrawny ones. I could go for a juicy steak.

I've been walking for about two days and I'm not really sure how much progress I've been making. I've come across small towns and suburbs and have scoured through them looking for signs of Nan or Dwight. Nothing so far but dead stinking in the hot sun.

I've been sleeping in those houses, too, but not as well as I'd like to. I can't let my guard down out here. People are looking for me.

I stop by the water to cool off for a bit. I wash my face and neck before taking a drink.

"Shit." I sit my ass down on a log.

This river can go miles farther than I anticipated walking. I know Nan said they lived two hours away, but fucking hell. I don't even know if I'm on the right path.

Sure, I found the river, thanks to Judith, but how the hell do I know if I'm going the right way? I'm just following it up. For all I know, they could live far away from it and just happened to be there when Rick washed up.

No, they'd have to live close to the water. Where else would they get clean drinking water? They wouldn't travel all the fucking way to it on a daily basis. Not even a weekly basis. Right?

"Right." I rasp, staring at the minnows darting in the water.

I take off my long shirt. I've been using it as a net to trap in as many as I can. When I said I was catching the scrawny ones, I meant minnows.

…

Dwight came home about an hour later, like he said he would, with four fish strung on a line. He took a shower after handing them to me and then went outback to carve some wood.

He's been quiet since Rick came two mornings ago to inform us Negan had escaped. Or maybe it's because of how I reacted.

Dinner is a little quiet, too, except for Birdie's chatter between bites. I want to break the silence, but I'm also still upset about earlier this afternoon, so I just talk to Birdie when she says anything.

I let her stay up a little after Dwight leaves to go on his real perimeter check, after taking Birdie around the outside of the house.

"Ew, you farted!"

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah!" She laughs, pinching her nose closed.

"The baby makes me gassy," I murmur as I concentrate on painting her toes, "Hold still, okay?"

"Mommy, I wanna sleep here."

"You do, huh?"

"Yeah."

I cap the nail polish. "Well, Daddy will probably let you, since he has been the last couple nights."

"Yay!"

"Yay," I exhale, tired after a long day of having Birdie attached to my hip, "I'm gonna take a quick shower, okay?"

"Okay."

"I want you to stay in this room, got it?"

"Got it."

The front door opens and shuts. "Dwight?"

"Yeah?"

I look over at Birdie. "Nevermind."

I get in the shower and I wasn't lying when I said I was taking a quick one. I wanted in and out so I could go to bed soon. In the bathroom, I hear Dwight talking to Birdie. She giggles.

"Let me see," He's knelt by the bed, holding one of her ankles, "Does this one smell?" He sniffs her foot, making her chuckle. "No."

"Other one."

"Alright, let me smell the other one." He takes her other foot and sniffs. He makes a face. "Whoa, what did you step in?"

Birdie laughs. "It's not stinky!"

"Are you sure about that?" He smiles at her laughter. "Sure smelled stinky to me."

"No!" She cackles, lifting the same foot. "Smell it again."

"Are you trying to kill me?"

Birdie giggles. "Yeah."

"Oh, you are, huh?"

"Yeah."

He slowly creeps up, making her chuckle. "Well, what if I get you first!" He tickles her with a playful growl, sending her into a wild laughter.

I smile. They play this game a lot, or some version of it and it never stops being cute.

"Stop, stop!" Birdie rolls this way and that way in side-splitting laughter.

Dwight ceases the tickling and pretend attack. "You gonna stop trying to kill me with those stinky feet?"

"Mm," She puts her finger up to her smart little pout, "Let me think about it. Okay."

"Shake on it."

"No." She giggles.

"You little liar." Dwight lovingly retorts. He looks up, spotting me by the bathroom door. He clears his throat. "Alright, stinky, time for bed."

"I wanna sleep in here with you and Mommy." Birdie says, already laying on the bed.

"Yeah?" Dwight shrugs off his jacket.

"Pleeease!"

"Yeah, alright, but it's not a permanent thing, Bird," He points to her, "Understood? You're gonna go back to sleeping in your room soon."

"Tomorrow?"

"We'll see." Dwight says under his breath.

I walk over to the dresser where my comb is.

Birdie sits up. "Mommy, I wanna brush your hair."

"I think I'm just gonna do it right now." I answer.

"No, I want to!" She falls back with a whine.

"You're too rough when my hair is dry," I run the comb through my hair, "How about I let you do it tomorrow when I wash my hair?"

"Okay." She pouts.

That way, my hair will already be detangled. Plus, when my hair's wet, it's impossible not to glide a comb effortlessly through it. A walker could do it.

"Where's my toothbrush?"

I look over, still combing. "What? Oh, I boiled them earlier. Probably still in the kitchen."

He heads out. "You don't need to boil the toothbrushes."

"You do to disinfect them," I reply, looking in the mirror, "Jerk."

"What?"

"I said, you do to disinfect them."

"Not every other week you don't," Dwight walks back to the bathroom, "It's gonna ruin them."

"Well, I'm bored," I put my hair up, "You've been doing all the stuff I do during the day, which gives me nothing to do, but stupid tasks."

"Sorry for letting you take a load off after being in the hospital."

"It…" I want to shout that it was only dehydration, less severe than I thought it was, but it's no use.

"Mommy, brush my hair."

"I did already."

"Do it again."

"No, I'm too tired, Pidge."

"Aw!"

"Hey, you wore me out today, kiddo."

"I was having fun, Mom."

I chuckle. "I know you were."

"I wanna get my socks."

"Okay, go get them real quick."

"'Kay."

She runs out of the bedroom. While she's away, I put on some moisturizer, glancing over at Dwight through my mirror as he brushes his teeth in the bathroom.

"Got 'em!"

"Why aren't they matching?" I take the pair she clearly parted from their other mates.

"I don't know." She climbs onto the bed.

"Whatever."

Dwight turns the light off in the bathroom.

"I have to pee!"

He flips it back on. "Alright, make it quick."

Birdie runs to the bathroom, closing the door until there's just a crack of light.

I lie down in bed, pulling the blankets over my lower half. "Shit."

"What?"

"I left my socks on the dresser." I complain, already getting comfy after a long day on my feet. I peel back the blankets to get up again.

"I'll get 'em." He walks over to the dresser.

"Thank you." I take the socks, somewhat shy.

"How's your back?"

"It's just now starting to ache," I tell him as I put the sock on my feet, "I'll take an aspirin before I go to sleep."

He nods his head.

I look up at him standing in front of me. "I upset you when I said I cared about Negan, didn't I?"

Dwight meets my eyes.

"That's why you've been quiet the past few days?"

His eyes scan my face before he looks down at his hands. "I don't care about that."

"Then what?" I ask him. "What is it?"

Birdie flushes the toilet and soon after opens the door. "Daddy, I have to wash my hands."

"Okay, I'll come help you." He looks at me and then goes to help Birdie.

I sit in bed with an ache in my throat. He is upset with me. I fight off hormonal tears before they leave the bathroom.

Birdie climbs back in the bed and crawls towards me. "Are you sleepy?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sleepy," I hold her, "Are you?"

"Mm, no."

"No?" I chuckle, "I don't believe you."

"You sleep in the middle, Mommy."

"The middle? But you sleep in the middle."

"No, you sleep there," She moves across my lap, "You're the biggest."

"Thanks, Bird." I scooch over to the middle part of the bed.

"We can snuggle, Mommy."

I smile, letting her lay against me. She's been so sweet today.

"But not the baby," She says, looking up at me, "The baby can't snuggle with us."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but if the baby's in my tummy, it snuggles when I do."

She chuckles. Her eyes glance down and slowly I feel a foot touch the round part of my stomach.

"Are you kicking the baby?"

"No."

"Then what are you doing?" I ask as she moves her foot along my bump.

"Petting you."

"With your feet?"

"Yeah, my socks are warm."

I can't help but laugh. "You little weirdo."

"Mommy, the baby can feel my foot?"

"Mm, I don't know. Maybe."

She lays her head down against me. I hum a little song for a while, until she goes to sleep, which doesn't take very long.

My eyes had trouble staying open as I hummed, also wiped out after the day I had with Birdie. I brave to slide myself down into bed and turn myself over, since I can't sleep on my back, without waking her up.

Dwight's lamp turns off and I'm suddenly reminded that he is in bed, too. I glance over as he sets a book down on his night stand. He makes eye contact with me as he too settles down for bed.

I face Birdie as I lay down, draping my arm over her. I peer over my shoulder. "Goodnight."

"Night."

I sigh through my nose, closing my eyes.

…

Did you know minnows could give you the shits? 'Cause I sure as hell do. I've been stopping every twenty minutes. I don't know how; those little assholes have no meat on their bones. I'm almost tempted to go back to my cell just for the privilege of toilet paper. I've had to sacrifice the button up shirt I found.

That and I've had a shitty time, no pun intended. It's hot as hell, I'm starving, I can't stop shitting, and every couple miles is lousy with the dead. I don't really have the energy to fight 'em off.

I can hear one right now. God, that's such a fucking annoying ass sound. Can't believe I used to have a bunch of 'em strung along the Sanctuary.

I look around with my tired eyes, trying to find the growling fucker. I can hear it, but I don't see it. It sounds some distance off.

I come across an old house that's got untame plants growing up the sides. The windows reveal a dark inside. I peek in to look for signs of movement. I then go around to the front door and enter.

It's empty, or at least the front of the house is. I find a dusty ass chair and plop down in it, exhausted. I can feel my stomach gurgle painfully. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten the scales.

I look around the dreary fucking room as I start to feel sorry for myself.

I'm not calling it quits, but fuck is this hard. I know how to survive out here, I had to do it way back when the world first changed, but it's different this time. I didn't have any drive in life back then, I was just surviving because I didn't want to die. I just sort of moved from place to place like this until I stumbled across the factory. Food was a little easier to find and I wasn't ducking the law for escaping prison.

But now I've got my girls to find and it's bugging the everliving fuck out of me that I haven't by now. I've followed that fucking river for three fucking days now and nothing. All I fucking want it is to see my daughter. Is that a fucking crime? Is it too fucking much to ask for? I'm that bad guy that even the universe is against me?

A shadow grows over the room. I glance up towards the windows.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

It's really gonna fuckin' rain. That's just what I need; mud to fucking trudge and sink into.

"Fuck me." I sigh. At least it'll be respite from the sun.

I pull myself up to explore the house, hoping to find something useful. Like toilet paper, or another shirt to keep my arms from burning. The place looks picked pretty clean. Some of the cupboards and cabinets aren't even closed. What barn-raised animal doesn't fucking close the cabinet doors?

I go through the master bedroom, but find nothing I can use. The bathroom has nothing either, unfortunately, except more open cupboards and a medicine cabinet.

Across the hall is a closed door. On it hangs a small heart pillow that was once pink with a lace trim that was once white. Looks like some ugly thing you'd have on a baby's door.

I go inside and glance around the ransacked room. It was a nursery. I can tell, because the crib and changing table are the only things left in the room, besides the dust-covered picture frames and wall decor.

I stare at the crib. Why the hell would you take everything in the room, except the essential shit? Then it dawns on me. I leave the room and by now it's stopped raining, so I get the hell out of there.

I head back to the river. The growling from earlier gets a little closer and it isn't long, until I come across it.

The rotting bastard stares gauntly at me with it's yellow eyes. It reaches for me with it's bony limb, pawing the air. I grin, walking away from it, letting it remain stuck on the spike. I follow the blockade down until I reach the river. And then I climb over it. I knew I was going the right way.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I know it's a short, boring chapter. I wrote it between finals lol.**


	25. Chapter 25

"Dwight?"

I hear her call my name, but I don't move.

"Dwight?"

"Hm?"

"It's cold."

"Do you have your socks on?"

"Yes," Nan replies with a slight irritation in her voice, "I have my socks on. I'm just cold."

"Well, then I don't know what to tell you."

"Can you lay close to me?"

"Isn't Birdie right next to you?"

"Yes," She sighs, "But I'm still cold."

I run my hand across my eyes before forcing them open. I fight my eyes to stay open long enough to see what time it is on my watch. I exhale and then roll to the left. I put my arm around her.

"Are you still cold?"

"No."

I breathe, falling back asleep.

"Dwight?"

"Honey, it's three o'clock in the morning," I gripe, "Can whatever it is wait?"

"...Yeah."

I lay there, trying to go back to sleep. "You have to go to the bathroom?"

"No," She says, "It's fine. I can tell you later."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"Love you, too."

She turns herself under my arms until she's facing me. She buries her face in my shoulder. I sigh through my nose, holding her with the feeling of slipping back under sleep.

…

A few hours later, Birdie and I are in the kitchen. Birdie's playing with that Rubik's cube Hal gave her. I got one of the sides for her, but she took it and undid it and is now trying to figure out how to undo what she did while I figure out what we're having for breakfast.

"Mommy, here."

"In a minute, honey," Nan sounds stuffy from getting sick this morning, "I gotta go get the eggs."

I turn my head from the open fridge. She's red around the eyes and she blots a thing of toilet paper under his nose to get rid of the drippiness. I can see her holding back the urge to puke.

"I got it, Nan."

"No, it's okay," She gets the basket, "I can do it."

"Mommy, I wanna come, too."

"Get your shoes on." She sniffs.

"'Kay!" Birdie runs to her room.

Nan continues to try to stop her leaky nose.

"Why don't you-"

"Please, don't suggest that I go sit down," She takes her tissue to the garbage, "I am perfectly capable of picking up eggs and putting them in a basket."

"Alright."

Nan lets out a big, frustrated sigh, putting her hands on the counter.

I shut the fridge. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," She breathes, "Just really strong kicks."

I lick my lip. "Go sit down. I'll get the eggs."

"No, I said I can do it," Nan moves from the spot, even though I can tell she didn't want to, "I'm not fragile and I don't want to sit around all day, while you do everything, so you don't have to talk to me."

"What?"

"You do everything and then there's nothing left to do, so then you just look for things to do to keep from having to talk to me."

"I haven't-"  
"Yes, you have," She snaps a little, "Ever since we found out Negan is gone, you've been avoiding me."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is." Her voice goes hoarse, which means she's about to cry.

"Here, Mommy!" Birdie brings Nan her shoes.

"Okay, let's slip 'em on," Nan helps her into her rainboots, "Go get your coat, please."

I wait for Birdie to go out of the kitchen. "Nan, I-"

"It's fine," She dries her eyes, "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Got it!" Birdie gives her her coat.

"Good job," Nan takes the coat, "Turn around, so I can get your arms in."

"I don't want my coat on."

"I know, but it's been raining and I don't want you to catch a cold." She takes her hand and then the basket and they head out the kitchen door to the coop.

I can see them from the window by the sink. Nan warns Birdie not to jump in the puddles from the rain last night. Birdie, always finding some way to do things, steps into a small puddle and stands there, looking down into the water.

Nan turns around with a basket of eggs and when she sees Birdie standing on top of the puddle, she asks her what she's doing and then rolls her eyes with a little smile, before telling her to come on.

I turn as they come back into the house.

"Take off your boots," Nan tells Birdie, "Let them dry outside."

"Okay."

Nan moves to the sink, making me step aside. She doesn't look or speak to me as she washes the eggs.

"Daddy, I stepped on a puddle!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it was fun."

"Sounds fun," I pick her up, "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Um, waffles."

"Waffles?" I sit her on the counter. "We had those two days ago."

"I like 'em."

"Yeah, I can tell," I chuckle, getting into the cabinet, "Alright, we'll make waffles."

"Then the swing, Daddy."

"The swing?"

"Yeah, I wanna be pushed on the swing."

"Oh, well, maybe Mom can push you later," I tell her, "I've gotta go do some things today."

"Aw!"

"I can push you when I get home."

"Where are you going?" Nan asks.

"I might go to my grandpa's place," I look over to her, "I left some things over there that'll ruin, if I leave 'em."

"Oh, okay…" She looks me over, "For how long?"

"I don't know, a few hours." I tell her, setting Birdie off the counter.

"Okay…" She takes the freshly washed eggs to the fridge.

"You'll be alright on your own for that long."

"Yeah, of course."

I see her face. "I mean, I could come back sooner, if you want."

"No, I'll be fine."

"Okay."

She stops for a moment and shuts her eyes gently.

"The baby kicking again?"

"Yeah," She breathes, "It hurts a little this morning."

I put my hands on her belly and she opens her eyes. I look down at her bump. "Go easy on your mother. She's got enough on her hands with your sister."

The violent movement flutters to a stop, as if the baby heard me and agreed to stop.

I smile and when I look up, so is Nan. I put my arms around her and she hugs me tightly.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," I rub her back, "I'm sorry if I've been an asshole the last few days."

"You haven't, I-"

"No, I have and I'm sorry," I tell her, "I just...I want you and Birdie to be safe and Negan out there somewhere made me afraid, but maybe you're right; we're pretty far out, so there's a slim chance he'll find us."

"They might have already found him."

"Yeah…"

Nan touches my arm. "Honey, I promise we're safe."

I peck her lips. "I'll head out after breakfast."

She smiles sweetly. "Okay."

…

"Look, Mom!" Birdie points to the T.V.

I pause my knitting for a moment to look. "Oh, yeah. Who is that again?"

"Lisa."

"Leisel?"

"Yeah."

I go back to knitting a pair of booties for the baby. We've still got Birdie's from when she was born, but I think this baby should have their own. It gives me something to do.

"Mommy, I wanna play outside."

"It's a little muddy right now, Bird."

"I have my boots."

"Let's wait a little," I tell her, "It looks like it's gonna rain soon."

She gets up on the couch. "We can play in the mud."

"No, we are not playing in the mud."

"Lame."

"Hey, don't call me lame," I kiss her temple when she hugs me, "Where'd you hear that?"

"Laura."

"I thought so."

"Mommy, I wanna say a bad word."

"Well, you can't say a bad word."

"I'll whisper it."

"No, you won't, or you'll get in trouble."

"You're mean."

"If you say a bad word, I'm letting Daddy know what you said."

"No!"

"Then don't say it."

There's a knock on the front door. I pause my knitting.

"Who is it, Mom?"

"I don't know," I get up from the couch, "You stay right here, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy."

I go to the door with a tender foot. I peek through the little hole and feel some bit of relief to see that it's only Sherry.

She knocks again, so I unlock the door and answer it.

"Hi."

"Hello," She greets, "I was wondering if I could borrow some laundry soap."

"Oh, yeah, sure," I open the door some more, "Come in, I'll get you some."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

I go to the laundry room where we keep the soap.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, that was very nice of him."

"Here, you can play with it, if you want to."

"Oh, thank you."

I go into the living room with the jar of laundry soap. Sherry is sitting on the couch looking over the puzzle Dwight made Birdie while Birdie sits on her knees at the coffee table.

"Here." I offer her the jar.

"Oh, thanks," She stands up, taking it, "I'll bring it back when I'm done."

"You can have it," I say to her, "We've got another kind that we use. Birdie broke out in hives with this one, so it wasn't being used."

"Oh, alright," Sherry looks around, "Did you repaint the house?"

"What?"

"The walls look brighter," She notes, "White. They were yellow before."

"Oh, yeah, Dwight said they needed a fresh coat of paint and it was all he could find."

"Huh, I liked the yellow better." Her eyes blink back to mine. I offer a smile, embarrassed.

"Would you like something to eat?"

"No, I had breakfast."

"I saw that."

Sherry stares, one brow curiously lifted.

I smile demurely. "There were less eggs in the coop than usual this morning."

"Does D know?"

"No, I didn't tell him."

She looks me over. "Huh...where'd he go?"

"To his grandpa's cabin," I answer her, "To make repairs. It burned down last fall."

"Oh…" She nods, before clearing her throat. "You know, I walked here and so I'm a little thirsty."

"Oh, sure, let me get you some water."

The two of us go into the kitchen. I get her some water and when I turn around she's having a seat at the table, still glancing around the house.

I clear my throat. "So, is the house up the road dry?"

She looks at me, puzzled. "What?"

"It's been raining," I clarify, "I was wondering if the roof is good; if you were keeping dry."

"Oh, yeah, the roof's fine." She takes the glass of water.

"Good." I say, hardly audible. I sit across from her. Her eyes stare at my pregnant belly. I feel slight discomfort in her staring, though I try to appear unaware.

"How far along are you again?"

"Uh, seven months."

"What are you having?"

"We don't know yet."

She nods again, slowly. Her hand grips the glass on the table. Her eyes pick up to mine. She smiles a little. "You know, you're very pretty."

I smile politely.

Sherry looks down at the glass of water with almost a hint of bitterness. "I'm surprised you managed to slip past Negan back at the Sanctuary."

I hold my smile, but it fades a little.

"He liked the pretty ones…"

I swallow. "I guess I got lucky."

Sherry scoffs. "Yeah, you did."

I don't say anything. She doesn't know and it's probably for the best that she doesn't.

"You don't know what it was like living with a man that would've killed you and your husband and not lose an ounce of sleep over it after," She says, licking her lip as she remembers, "Sleeping with a man who relished the fact that he took you from someone good, or that you'd still let him touch you even after he put an iron to the face of the person you love...the only person left in the world."

I look on her with sympathy and a little pity.

"You don't know what he does to you," Sherry's eyes get shiny, "I thought if I got out, I'd be okay. If I lived. But being the road alone doesn't do your mind any favors either."

"I spent some time on my own before the Sanctuary," I finally speak, "I can understand."

Sherry looks over at me. "Were you scared?"

"Yes, I was."

"Did you think every day would be the day you died?"

"For awhile," I say, touching my belly, "But I think sometimes when you'd be okay dying, life has a way of being cruel...even in the most sparing of ways."

"You wanted to die?"

"I thought so at first, but I think I really just wanted to be alone," I look at her, "Did you want to die?"

"Not at first," She tells me, "At first, I wanted to be alone, too…" She furrows her brows at me, inquisitive. "Did you ever become violent?" She almost whispers.

"No," I answer honestly.

"Not even when you were afraid?"

I feel unease. "I killed the dead when I needed to. I don't know that I would say I was violent towards them."

She closes her lips, staring off for a moment. "That's when I wanted to die...but then...then one day I didn't feel like that. I stopped feeling that way and I didn't even care. I hardly noticed."

"...About killing the dead?"

Her eyes dart to mine. "You never came across other people when you were alone?"

"Some bikers," I reply, growing more anxious, "But they never saw me, I avoided them."

"Why?"

"Because they didn't look like good people."

She knits her brows, seemingly bewildered.

"They sort of looked like bad guys." I offer a faint smile.

"Huh," She huffs, "Well, that's the thing. Sometimes you can tell that someone is bad, but really there's no telling these days who is and who isn't."

What morsel of a smile I gave is gone.

Sherry's eyes move to the water and she exhales. "Well, he was decent in bed. I'll give him that."

I furrow my brows, confused. "What?"

"Negan," She takes a drink of her water, "He was decent in bed."

The way she says 'decent' sounds like a willful choice. Like she chose that word in place of another, perhaps better word. I don't say anything though.

Her eyes once again look around. "You know, D and I bought this house together three years into our marriage."

My eyes look into the other room, where Birdie sits watching her movie.

"We wanted the whole white picket fence type of life," She goes on, "With date nights, and a dog, and kids…" She looks directly at me. "Then the world changed."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "It must have been hard to have to leave."

"It was for me," She says adamantly, "But I don't know about D, because he came back and has all that. But with you."

The tone of her voice is unsettling. Pointed.

"When did you say D was gonna be home?"

My heart sinks. "I didn't."

The sound of a motorcycle tears up the road.

"Daryl!" Birdie says with a smile on her face. She's associated the sound of a motorcycle with him, since he is the only one we ever see on one.

Sherry looks back at Birdie and then at me with furrowed brows.

When Birdie runs to the door, I rise and go to the front of the house. Sure enough it's Daryl with Dog in an attached sidecar. I huff, knowing why he's come up here. Like Rick, Daryl has never been up here before, but I know he's come for the same reason as Rick.

"I wanna pet Dog!"

"Hold on." I keep her from running out as I watch Daryl walk around from his bike with Dog leaping out of the sidecar after him.

He meets my eyes as he stalks up to the door without a greeting.

"Did they tell you where to find us?"

"Laura did."

"Why?"

"'Cause I asked."

"Why did you ask?" I ask him. "So, you could come here and ask about Negan? He's not here. He doesn't know where we are."

"I wanted to make sure." He gruffs.

"Do you wanna come in to make sure like Rick did?"

Daryl's eyes move behind me. I look over and find Sherry staring at him with what looks like shame and terror.

"Hi, Daryl."

"Hey." He greets Birdie.

"I have to go." Sherry moves past the two of us. She turns, nearly stumbling. "Uh, don't tell D I was here."

And like that, she heads off down the road, less brave than before.

Daryl watches her go for a moment and then looks over at me.

"She came for soap." I walk into the house.

He whistles for Dog who trots into the house with him.

"Negan's not here and we haven't seen any signs of him."

"Where's D?"

"He's working."

"He should be here."

"Why?" I go to the kitchen. "Negan's not going to find us."

"You don't know that."

"Well, if he does, then we'll return him to you."

"If he doesn't kill you first."

"He wouldn't do that."

"Why? 'Cause of her?"

I look over at Birdie in the other room, sitting beside Dog and petting him.

"She's his kid, ain't she?"

I look back to Daryl staring at me.

"Why else would you talk to 'im after what he did to you?"

I put my hand over my belly, vulnerable and angry. "You think he'd kill us and take her?"

"You don't?"

"He's not a monster." I say the phrase once again.

"He deserves to rot in that hole they put him in."

I inhale, frustrated. "If you came here for the same reason as Rick, then I think you should go. Dwight and I can handle things ourselves and he should be home any minute."

I don't know why I said that with no actual knowledge of whether or not it's true.

Daryl looks around the kitchen and then back to me. "I'll wait 'til he gets back."

I nod reluctantly as he goes to the living room where Birdie and I were and sits in the chair, leaned forward. Dog gets up and pads into the living room, prompting Birdie to follow.

I, despite not really wanting Daryl here as a watchdog, but with zero ounce of energy to fight, go to the couch where I sat and pick up my knitting.

"What the hell is this?" He nods to the singing on the television.

" _Sound of Music_." Birdie tells him, sitting in front, craning her head up.

I concentrate on my work, trying to let go of the frustration I feel over Daryl deciding to stay for our protection. I know he means well, at least I think I do, but I don't need him to protect Birdie and I while Dwight's not home.

Daryl glances over at me.

I break eye contact, determined to work on the booties.

…

It's started to rain again. And I never like the rain when Dwight's outside somewhere from home. Pretty much all of the times he's gotten hurt has been when it rains.

Daryl was adamant about staying until Dwight got back and so he let Birdie bring him stuff to do until she got tired and fell asleep. Now we're just sitting around. Daryl tinkers with the Rubik's cube and I'm finishing up the booties.

I don't like him being here. I like Daryl, but I don't like him thinking he needs to be here. Like I'm some helpless woman who couldn't handle Negan or any other potential threat if they came by. Besides, neither of us are really talkers, so the conversation ran out long ago.

When I open my eyes, Daryl's back to the chair in a reclined position with his boot on the table. His eyes stare out the slider glass as his finger rests along his upper lip.

I look out the same door at the falling rain. The chickens are all in their nests inside the coop.

"No signs of Negan?"

Daryl's eyes move to meet mine. "Nah."

I sigh through my nose, smoothing my hand over my belly. "There's a radio in the kitchen on the counter. If you get it for me, I'll see if Dwight's on his way home."

He glances me over.

"Or I can do it, but you'll have to help me up." I put my hand out.

He gets up from the chair and stalks into the kitchen. He returns with the radio, handing it to me.

I turn it on. "Dwight? Dwight, do you copy?"

We wait in silence. Sleeping Birdie sighs on the floor where she passed out.

"He might be out of range."

Daryl puts his boot back on the coffee table.

"Yeah, I copy," Dwight answers back, "What do you need?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to know when you'd be back."

"I'm putting a tarp over the roof," Dwight reports, "I'll be heading out after that. You alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just wondering when you'll be home."

"I'll be home soon."

"Okay, see you soon."

"See you soon."

I set the radio on the side table. "He'll be home soon," I tell Daryl as if he couldn't hear it, "You can go home, if you want. Negan's not here and Dwight will be, so…"

"You tryin' to get rid of me?"

"It's gonna get late and you have a two hour ride back."

He nods, looking me over.

"There's a shotgun in the closet and I know how to use it in the unlikely event that he finds us."

Daryl huffs under his breath. "Why aren't you afraid?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ain't you worried about him finding this place?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Of course."

"Then why ya so laid back about it?" He mimics my shrug.

"How would you like me to react?"

Daryl doesn't reply, he just stares like he does.

"I am afraid," I admit to him, "My whole world could fall to pieces if he found us."

Again, he just stares.

"But I'm not gonna pace back and forth and panic over what may never happen. It's not good for the baby and it would upset Birdie."

Daryl looks towards the floor where she lays.

"I let him have control over my life before," I go on, "I'm not gonna let him have that again."

"Huh." He grunts, petting Dog.

"Does it bother you to know the truth?"

"What?"

"About Birdie?" I ask him, concerned. "Do you think differently of me now that you know I had his baby?"

Daryl looks at me. It's hard to tell what he's thinking. He always looks like he's got a chip on his shoulder.

I look down at my stomach. "I feel like a circus freak sometimes. It's like everyone who knows has never been unkind to me, but I know the look when I see it." I look at him. "It's the look like 'how could she have _his_ child? Everything he's done and she had his daughter.'"

I fiddle with a button in my shirt. "Sad thing is, the only people who wouldn't have outcasted me if you had killed Dwight would have been the Saviors. They all knew and none of them cared." I lick my lips. "I'm not ashamed though. I thought I would be, but how can I be? That little girl is everything to me. I would do anything to keep her safe."

Birdie starts to wake up. She sits up on her knees and rubs her eyes. "Mommy?" Her voice is raspy.

"I'm over here, Bird."

She pads over to the couch. "I'm thirsty."

"Okay, I'll get you some water." I force myself up off the couch.

"Dog, you're a good boy." Birdie praises.

"Sherry coming back?"

"I don't know, Dwight doesn't really want her around."

"Why? What's she done?"

"She took some eggs while we were gone." I put Birdie's cup under the faucet.

"That it?"

I look over because of his tone. I knit by brows a little. "Yeah. Why?"

He shrugs, leaning against the frame.

I put the lid on the cup. "You told me to watch my back last time we saw each other."

He looks over.

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning against the frame. "She seemed off."

"Off how?"

"Just off."

"Oh…" I walk slowly back to the living room. "Dangerous?"

"Don't know, that's why I told you to watch your back."

I give Birdie her water, nodding. Maybe it was a good thing he came when he did.

"Guess I'll head out," He says, "Since you don't want me here."

I smile a little at his attempt at good humor. "It's not that I don't want you here, it's that I don't need you here. I can take care of things when Dwight's not here."

"While you're carrying a baby?"

"Didn't Maggie fight the war pregnant?"

"Yeah, but that was different."

"How is it different?"

Daryl shrugs. "Just is."

My eyes read his. "You mean she's different. _I'm_ different."

He stares.

"Are you going home, Daryl?" Birdie asks.

"Yeah, I am." He answers her.

"Aw, I like playing with Dog."

"You'll see him next time we go into town." I tell her.

"Okay, pound it." She puts her fist up to Daryl.

"See ya, kid." Daryl bumps his fist to hers, before whistling to Dog.

The two head for the door and I traipse behind them, holding my elbows.

"You let me know if he shows."

I pick my eyes up to Daryl's. I nod quietly.

He nods back, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and opening the door.

"What will happen to him once he's found?"

Daryl looks over his shoulder, peering me over through his hair. He doesn't reply, he just walks to his bike with Dog at his heels.

…

"Stay in tonight."

"I won't be long." I put on my hat.

"Let's just lock up," Nan drapes her arms around my neck, "You'll catch your death out there."

I give her lips a kiss. "I'll be in and out before you get out of the shower."

"Dwight, I don't want you getting sick," She argues, "Stay, don't go."

"This morning you wanted me gone."

"I didn't want you gone, I just wanted you to stop pacing around like a trapped animal."

"When did I do that?"

"When you were trying to keep busy, trying to stick around here," She pecks my lips, "You were going stir crazy, it was getting on my nerves."

I smile into a laugh. "I'll be right back."

"You can go one night without doing a perimeter check."

"Why are you fighting me on this?" I ask her. "Is it because of Daryl?"

"Why would it be because of Daryl?"

I shrug my shoulders. "You didn't like that he was here."

"When did I say that?"

"I can tell," I kiss her, "You were really glad to see me."

Her smile sinks a little and she looks down. "That's only because I don't like you being out in the rain."

"I won't melt."

She snickers, looking back at me. "I just missed you is all."

"I was gone for five hours."

"Well, I was glad you were home," Nan moves her arms, "Is that such a bad thing?"

"No."

"Just stay in tonight," She lightly pleads, "Please?"

I look over her face. She's definitely bothered, even though she says she's not. I exhale. "Yeah, alright."

She smiles, content.

The two of us lock up the house before we go to bed. Birdie's already been asleep for half an hour in our bed by time we lay down. Nan rests her head against my shoulder as I bring the covers up.

"What'd you and Daryl talk about when he was here?"

"Nothing much," She says, "Daryl's not really one for conversation. We mostly just sat in silence after I told him Negan wasn't here."

I nod, reading the book in my hand. "Sounds like a riot."

"Mm, I didn't mind," Nan replies, "It's a comfortable silence. Well, it would have been, if I wasn't pissed that he decided to stick around."

"You could've told him to leave."

"Yeah…" She touches my arm. "But I did feel a little safer with him around."

I glance over at her. "Why's that?"

"No reason," She exhales, snuggling closer to me, "D?"

"Yeah?"

"...Nevermind."

"What is it?"

"It's nothing." She smiles up at me.

I smile back, but I know it wasn't nothing. I go back to reading.

"Turn the page."

"I'm not done yet."

"Well, I am."

I chuckle. "Well, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was sharing the book."

"You are."

We laugh together. I put the book down and move towards her, kissing her lips.

"Hey, watch it; Birdie's in the bed."

I smooth hair out her face, looking at her. "You're really pretty, you know that?"

Her bright smile settles into a sweet closing of her lips.

I kiss her again. "I love you, Anna."

"I love you, too."

I lay back and she moves back to where she was. We're both quiet for the rest of the night.

…

It's quiet this morning. The earth is damp from the rain. The house is glistening with the wetness on its exterior. It looks familiar. Like deja vu, though I can't fuckin' put my finger on where I've seen it before.

The truck's parked right off to the side. I know someone's home. But I don't hear any voices. Of course, I am in the woods.

I thought about how I'd approach, if I ever found the place and now that I have, I've decided the best thing for me to do is to walk right up to that door and knock. Well, it's maybe not the best way. It could invite getting shot in the fuckin' face, but would I be me, if I wasn't ballsy enough to do it anyway? Fuck no.

I walk straight ahead to the front door of what I am ninety-nine percent certain is Nan's house. I recognize the truck to be one of mine from the Sanctuary, so that's enough proof for me.

I look down at the door mat that reads 'welcome.' I stare at the door and I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous. I take a breath.

"Get it together, you pussy."

I extend my hand and knock on the door. I wait for a response. A click, the all too familiar sound of a hammer being pulled back by a thumb makes me aware of someone behind me.

I scoff under my breath, smiling defeatedly.

"Don't move."

I stick my tongue in my cheek and my hands up. "Mornin', D."

The front door opens up and suddenly I'm face to face with Nan. Her expression drops, utterly taken back with what looks like dread or shock.

"Hey, baby," I say, somewhat wry, "Daddy's home."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **CLTex: I really wanted to have more Negan in this chapter, but I've had terrible writer's block when it comes to this whole situation! But he's here and now shit's gonna get a hell of a lot more fun and tense!**


	26. Chapter 26

Her eyes stare into mine without a word. She looks stunned with fear but in her usual calm way. It's kind of the worst way to see fear. Especially from someone you're glad to see.

"Go inside." Dwight tells her, still pointing a gun at my back.

My eyes trail down. She's…

"How did you find us?" She finally asks with a harrowed rasp.

I look up to meet her eyes.

She stares with her lips parted from the question.

"Mommy!"

I see Nan's breath sharpen to a halt. I stare back at her, as if wondering if I really heard a voice calling for her.

"Mommy, I spilled my-"

Nan turns swiftly around. "Go back to the kitchen and wait for me there."

"But Mommy-"

"Right now!"

A little girl appears right beside Nan. She immediately looks right up at me. Her curious eyes arrest mine. Holy shit.

"Who are you?" She asks boldly.

"Birdie, let's go inside." Nan touches the back of her head with a tender hand.

The girl points. "Who is that man, Mommy?"

"Uh," Nan looks over with the same look of dread she had when she opened the door, "This is...Mommy's friend."

"Your friend?"

"Y-yeah," Nan nods slightly, glancing behind me, "He's come to visit."

I smile at her, even though she's not smiling back. God, I'm gonna get all sappy in a second. "Hey, darlin'."

"Hi," She puts out a brave little hand, "My name is Birdie. What's your name?"

My smile grows. I can feel the tears coming up. I go to shake her hand, but Dwight tugs me back.

"No."

"Dwight." Nan shakes her head.

"Daddy, why are you pointing your gun at Mommy's friend?"

Dwight's quiet for a minute, maybe trying to explain himself. Asshole.

"He just took Daddy by surprise," Nan comes up with the excuse, looking at me, "We didn't think he'd find us."

"I meant to write in advance, but I didn't have your address."

Nan's face doesn't look amused. Her eyes move. "Dwight."

"You're serious?"

She nods subtly at him.

"Daddy, you're not supposed to point guns at your friends."

Dwight sighs behind me and I can't help but grin a little. "Yeah, your right, baby. I'm sorry."

"That's okay, Daddy," Birdie looks up at me again, "What's your name?"

I smile. I point my finger to my chest. "I'm-"  
"Negan," Nan cuts me off, "This is Negan, honey."

Birdie stares up at me and takes her mom's hand. She reaches out her free hand. "We can shake hands, if you want."

My smile grows. "I would love nothing more than to shake hands with you, darlin'." I look up at Nan for permission.

Her mouth flattens to an unpleasant line, but she permits.

"Alright, put her there." I reach my hand out and take my daughter's hand in mine. I can't describe how fucking emotional it's making me to shake her hand, even though she doesn't know that I've known her since the moment she was born.

She pulls her hand away and shyly holds Nan's hand with both hands.

I smile as I breath in with utter happiness. The aroma of food fills my inhale. "I didn't interrupt breakfast, did I?" I ask Nan. "Smells good."

Nan shares a look with the prick behind me. "Let's go inside."

"Well, don't mind if I do," I smile, "I am famished."

She doesn't say a word, she just encourages Birdie into the house.

I look over my shoulder. "Should I follow the Mrs. or are you gonna fertilize your yard with my brain matter?"

Fuck, I wish I had a picture of Dwight's scornful, bitter ass face. He stares at me like he wishes looks could kill.

I grin with a chuckle and then start to head in.

"If you try anything," His words pause me, "I will kill you. I don't care if Birdie thinks you're our friend, or not."

I salute him and walk into the house. It's nothing special. Looks like one of those cute little starter homes Lucille and I moved into when we first got married. Small, but homey. I did notice the outside was that yellow Lu always talked about.

A small arch way just off the front room brings the smell of bacon, which hits my stomach hard. Before I take another step, Dwight yanks me back. "Give me all your weapons."

"I only had a crowbar," I tell him, "It's about ten yards that way. I dropped it when I was coming up to the door."

He scoffs. "You don't have any knives, or…"

"Pepper spray?" I raise my brows in a good mood. "Tell you what, you can search all around in my pockets if you want, but I don't have anything."

I stroll into the kitchen before he has time to fire back. The kitchen is bright with the rays of morning sun coming in from the window. Nan's over by the stove, pushing around what look like scrambled eggs. I don't see the little one, so my eyes start searching for her.

Nan turns around and her eyes look cautiously at me as she walks over to the table with the frying pan in her hand. "Birdie, come help Mommy."

Out of nowhere, the little girl comes padding into the kitchen from another archway. "Is my eggs ready?"

"Mhm." Nan puts some eggs on three set plates, still watching me.

"I want sausage and toast."

"I'm getting it, honey."

The little girl lifts up her mom's apron and brings it over her head. "Good morning, baby. Can you hear me talking?"

I smile, choked up again. This has to be a fuckin' dream. I've had 'em like this before, so I know it can't be real life.

"Sit down." Dwight nudges rudely past me.

"Such gracious hospitality, thank you." I go to the kitchen table and pull back a chair where one of the plates with eggs is set. "Uh, can I get a fork? Please?"

Nan goes to a drawer, opens it, and then brings a fork over in silence.

"Thank you, darlin'."

She stands there for a moment. "Would you like some sausage and toast?"

"Oh, yes, please," I dig into the eggs, "I am fucking starved. Haven't had any real food in days. Can I have some water, too?"

"Sure." Nan stares at me for a moment, before moving.

Dwight picks up one of the plates and moves it to an empty spot beside one with a plate. He sits down at the head, or maybe the foot of the table without a plate.

Nan comes back with some water. Then the sausage and toast which she sets on the table. Once she's brought over two mugs, one for the both of them and a small cup of milk, she pulls a chair back. "Birdie, come eat."

"Oh, fuck, you have coffee?" I say with half my mouth full of eggs.

"Uh, yeah," She says, gathering her brows at me, "Would you like a cup?"

"If you'd be so kind."

Nan pushes herself up and goes to the coffee pot.

Birdie comes over from playing with a doll on the kitchen floor and climbs up on the chair where Dwight had set the plate in its new place.

"Mommy, cut my eggs."

"They're scrambled, Birdie." Nan walks to the fridge and gets out a squeeze bottle. She brings that and the cup of coffee to the table.

"Thank you." I drink it, despite that it's kind of hot. I watch Nan squeeze barbecue sauce generously over her eggs. I thought ketchup was the go to.

"Mommy, I want that, too."

Nan drizzles a little on the side of her plate. "There."

"Thank you." She eats her breakfast, looking over at me.

I smile at her as I chew and she looks away. I glance over at her mom and Dwight and see their hostile faces.

"This is delicious, Nan," I point at the food with my fork, "Who knew you could bake _and_ cook?"

"Dwight made it."

I look at Dwight. "Oh, well, you make a mean breakfast, D."

Dwight doesn't say anything back. He just stares in contempt.

"How did you find us?"

I meet Nan's gaze.

"How did you know where to look?"

"Oh, from you."

"What?" She sharply says. "I never told you where we lived."

"Not in so many words."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You told me you found Rick by the river," I remind her, "So, I figured you must live by the river and so when I discovered the door to my cell hadn't been locked, I found the river and followed it until I found those bad ass spikes you got going on a few miles away."

Nan looks over at Dwight.

"Don't be so hard yourself," I say, "It was a lucky guess, really. Although, a pretty fucking smart one, if I do say so myself."

They both look at me, unimpressed.

"Mommy, I'm done."

Nan turns her head. "You hardly touched your food."

"I'm done."

"Take two bites of your toast for me."

Birdie complies.

"And one more bite of sausage."

She takes a bite from her round little sausage patty.

"And just three more bites of your eggs."

Birdie pokes three pieces of scrambled eggs in her mouth, chewing them.

"Alight, good girl," Nan exhales, "Go play."

Birdie slides off her chair. She stares at me, before running off into what looks like a living room.

"Man, she is a beauty," I blink to meet Nan's eyes, "I always knew she would be, but goddamn, I didn't ever think she'd the little vision she is."

Nan just stares, unflattered. "Why did you come here?"

"Isn't that fuckin obvious?" I ask her, nodding towards the living room. "To find my daughter."

She doesn't look particularly pleased with my answer.

"Look, I know I've done some fucked up shit to the both of you," I set down my fork, "But I wanna make amends for all that."

"What?" Dwight scoffs, looking derisively at me.

"I wanna make shit right," I repeat, "Bury the hatchet."

He scoffs again. That may have been a poor choice of words.

"And I'll do whatever the fuck it takes to be in your good graces again," I shrug, "Or for once."

"You want to be in our good graces?" Dwight moves his finger between himself and Nan.

"That's right."

Dwight smiles incredulously.

"Yeah, I get that I'm not always the most sincere guy, but I've done some thinking in that cell over the years and I am ready to get out in the world and do right by the people I severely fucked over." My eyes meet Nan's. "Or hurt."

She breaks eye contact.

"Well," Dwight scoffs under his breath, "It's too late for all that."

I blink to him.

"We don't want your amends," He shrugs, "Don't need it either."

Nan turns her head, as if quietly taken back.

Dwight stands up from his chair. "The only kind of good you can do people for all the shit you put 'em through is to go back to your cell and that's what your gonna do, 'cause I'm taking you back to Alexandria." He touches Nan's elbow. "Come on."

She looks up at him, rising out of her chair.

Dwight glances at me. "Get up."

I stick my tongue in my cheek, before sighing and getting up.

Nan touches her pregnant bump. She looks at Dwight as he starts to move. "You're gonna go now?"

"The sooner the better," He walks towards the archway that'll lead to the front door, "Come on."

I look at Nan, wanting to plead my case to her. I follow Dwight to the front door instead. Fucking hell. I guess it was just a stupid fantasy to think I could convine them to let me stay a while. I look over my shoulder. Birdie's in the other room, coloring at the coffee table. Goddamn.

I head out in the hot sun to the front yard, or what would be a front yard if they didn't live in the fucking woods. We walk around to the truck parked off to the side of the house.

"You know, D, I really-"

"I don't care." He cuts me off, opening up the hatchback. He pulls some rope out of the back.

"Seriously?" I arch my brow. "Is that really necessary?"

He stares back in all seriousness.

I groan under my breath. "Fucking asshole."

I put my hands out and you bet your ass he tied 'em together extra fucking tight. I give a fuck you look and then walk around to the passenger's side of the truck. He opens the door for me and shoves me a little to get me in.

"Dwight?"

I look out the window and see Nan with Birdie holding her hand. Dwight goes over and I can't hear what she's saying, but she hands him a thing of water. Birdie looks over at the truck, at me, very lightly swing her mom's hand. At least I finally got to see her. Shake hands with her.

God, she's more beautiful than I ever dreamed up during those long days and years in my cell. Now, all I have to do is hold onto what she looks like when I go back. Whatever's in store for me back in Alexandria I can take. It was worth it coming here, even if it was only a few short minutes.

Dwight gives Nan a kiss on the cheek, which makes me roll my eyes, before he heads to the truck. Nan and Birdie stand there watching for us to leave. I lift up my tied hands and wave one. Birdie waves back like a kid would do. Nan just stares with a look that isn't indifferent.

Dwight gets in and shuts the door.

"Got any sweet tunes we can listen to?" I ask him sarcastically. "Or are we gonna bond the whole way there?"

"Shut the hell up." He sticks the key in the ignition and starts the car. "Shit!"

I raise my brow at him, confused as he just sits there, staring at the dash. "What? You gotta take a piss before we head out?"

Dwight turns off the engine and gets back out of the truck, slamming the door. Maybe he does have to pee. He stalks over to the girls. Nan seems to ask what's wrong. Whatever he tells her makes her eyes flicker to me.

Nan's mouth moves and her eyes look at Dwight with a concerned look on her face. He shrugs, shaking his head. She speaks and then he turns around to come back to the truck. He yanks open my door and pulls me by the arm.

"Get out."

"You gonna bury the hatchet in me and save Rick the trouble?"

Dwight shoves me to walk. He stops me at the garage.

"What are you doing?" Nan asks.

"Go open it from the inside." He tells her.

"We can't put him in there," Nan mildly argues, "It'll get too hot."

"He'll be fine," Dwight says, "It's just until I can get enough gas to make it to Alexandria."

"You don't know how long that will take."

"I'll go into Camden; there should be gas there."

Why does Camden sound familiar? I think one of the gals I used screw around with was from there. I don't remember her name; I only saw her a few times. She liked to pound the gin back too much. Nice ass though, but Nan's got a nice ass.

"He can't stay in the hot garage, Dwight."

"Where the hell are we supposed to put him?"

"Can't you just radio Hal or somebody?"

"The radio doesn't reach that far, you know that."

"I have a suggestion."

The both look at me. "Stay out of this."

"You could just let me crash on the couch until you get some gas in your tank."

"Yeah," Dwight scoffs, "That's not gonna happen."

"I don't think we have a choice, Dwight." Nan says, which makes both of us look over.

"What?"

Nan winces a little like she doesn't like her own conclusion. "He can't stay in the garage. It gets too hot in there. You remember what happen to that chicken that got trapped in there."

"Go open up the garage door." Dwight says, more adamant.

Nan looks at him and then me, before turning around and complying. She takes Birdie with her.

I look over at Dwight when she's gone. "You always boss her around like that?"

"Shut up."

"Hey, it's cool, no judgement," I shrug, "Some guys wear the pants, others let their wives wear pants. I've been on both sides and let me tell you it's always better to be wearing the pants."

Dwight rears back and punches me in the face, which makes me stumble to a fall because I can't balance with my arms.

"I said shut up."

The door to the garage lifts open. Nan's in the center of the garage, holding onto the pull cord to the door. When she sees me on the ground, in the process of struggling my way to my feet, she comes over and helps me up without a word or inquiry about the blood trickling down my nose.

Dwight goes in and start fishing around some shelves. "Put him up against the beam."

Nan pulls me by my tied hands to a beam in the center of the garage. Her eyes brave up to mine and we look at one another. She breaks her gaze and steps back when Dwight comes over.

He has a pair of handcuffs. I'm curious to know why they have handcuffs, but I'll ask later. He undoes my ropes. "Up against the beam."

"Okie doke." I put my hands around the beam and he cuffs them together. I wince at the all too familiar pain.

He then shuts the garage door. "Come on."

Nan looks from him to me, before following him out of sight. I hear the door to the house swing open and shut.

I take a breath, staring at the windows of the garage. It's fucking hot in here.

…

Sweat drips down my face. I flinch and scrunch my face to try and shake the tickle the sweat makes. It got hotter in here real fucking fast. I can see the fucking heat waves in the air. My balls are fucking dripping. My tongue touches my lips, begging for water.

I have no fucking clue how long I've been here but holy fucking shit. I'm drenched in sweat from the heat of the sun blaring in from the windows. I don't consider myself a wuss, but I wanna fuckin' cry it's so fucking hot in here. It's like a fucking oven. It's all I think about.

I wanna shout out for that fucking limp dick burn victim to let me the fuck out, but I won't bring myself to it. I'd rather die like that chicken I think Nan mentioned.

I must have been roasting in here for a long time, because I can feel myself wanting to fall limp. I think I hear a door open and slam shut, but I've kind of hallucinating that for a while in hope.

"Negan?"

I lift up my eyes. Fuck, my sight's a little blurry, but only from the sweat.

"Here, it's water."

Halle-fucking-lujah. This better fucking not be a mirage.

I feel something up against my lips and suddenly cool water touches cottonmouth tongue. I drink as fast as I can, which ends up choking me. I cough out painfully.

"Sorry, I poured it too fast."

"Thanks." I cough.

"Dammit," She curses under her breath, "It's too hot in here."

"Unchain me." I tell her, lethargic.

"I will," She softly says, "I just have to wait until-"

"No, please," I shake my loose head, "It's fucking hot in here, Nan. You gotta let me out."

I feel a hand touch my forehead, pushing my head back. "Open your eyes."

I struggle, but I manage to open my eyes.

I can barely see her. She looks like a vision. Almost like...No.

"I'll go get the key to the lock."

…

The clock on the wall ticks faintly from the kitchen. I sit politely on the couch, looking around the living room. _The Sound of Music_ plays on mute. It's nice and comfortably cool in here. Dwight sits in a chair, polishing something with a square of sandpaper, doing his damnedest not to look at me.

They let me inside the house after Nan came to give me water. She was worried I was getting heat stroke, which honestly I thought I already had. She gave some water and plugged in a fan after sitting me on a couch. She then placed a cool rag on my forehead and I watched the three of them eat lunch while I deescalated from the heat.

I'm hunky dory now. Right as rain. Good as new. I'm just waiting for Nan to get back to have that little chat she said we'd have before she took Birdie to lie down for a nap. I don't wanna jinx it, but I have a feeling it's gonna be aces for me, which is why Dwight's so ass-chapped.

Nan finally comes back. We both look over. She makes eye contact with me. "Do you need any water?"

"Nah, I drank to my heart's content," I smile at her, "But thanks for asking."

She stares, curt as she rests her hand on that pregnant belly of hers. She looks to Dwight and they share a look, before he goes back to working on whatever the hell that is. He's so fucking pissed right now and it tickles me.

Nan breathes softly. "You're going back to Alexandria," She tells me, "As soon as Dwight can siphon enough gas to make it there."

I exhale. "Alright."

Her brows knit a little. "Alright?"

"Yeah, sure," I shrug, easy-going, "I'd be a dumbass if I thought you'd let me stay."

"You're okay with going back to the cell?"

"Yep," I nod my head, "I mean, no, but I told someone I'd come back if things didn't pan out for me here, so guess I'll be keeping that promise."

"Who knew you left?"

Fucking snitch. I stick my tongue in my cheek. "I'm afraid that's a secret."

She looks both concerned and puzzled.

"I don't wanna get 'em in trouble with Rick." I explain.

Nan inhales, as if deciding that it's not that important. "Until Dwight takes you back, you can sleep on the couch."

"Cool."

"But there are rules."

"Of course," I nod with a growing smirk, "Rules afterall are the foundation of every good system."

Dwight pauses his sanding, looking over. The fucking hate in his eyes is unreal.

"Under the right kind of leadership, that is."

Nan gives me a look to be on my best behavior. "If you break the rules, then you'll be tied up in the garage."

"Kinky."

She stares at me.

"Sorry." I motion as if I'm zipping my lips.

"We could kill you, you know," Nan informs me, "We could chain you outside in the hot sun like a dog, or trap you in the hot garage without water until you overheat and die."

Call me what you will, but I'm a little turned on. Nan's not the sort to make cruel threats with such seriousness. It's attractive.

"But we aren't going to do that, because it'd be something you would do and we're not you," She glances over at Dwight, "We're better than that."

I resent that, but I'll be quiet.

"The first rule is that you can't pick up any weapons or anything that can be used as a weapon."

"Can you write those down?" I ask her. " 'Cause there's a lot of shit that can be used as a weapon."

She stifles an eye roll. "Negan."

"I'm not trying to be smart," I say, trying not to chuckle, "It's a valid fucking question. Like, am I able to use a fork?"

"Obviously."

"But you can kill someone with a fork."

"We shouldn't give you a fork?"

"No, I can be trusted with a fork."

"That's the thing," She says, "You have to be trusted and we don't trust you."

I furrow my brows. "What? You think I'd hurt you?"

Her eyes stay fixed on mine. I see a falter in those beautiful blues. "The second rule is that you have to stay where we can see you. You don't have free roam of the house; you're not a guest."

"Fair enough," I say, "What if I gotta take a leak? Is Dwighty boy gonna watch me?"

If there were crickets outside, you'd hear 'em.

"Alright, got it. I'll stay in the open."

"Finally...we need to talk about Birdie," Her face somehow becomes tiger-like, if that makes sense, without her moving a muscle, "She is to know nothing about who you are. You're a friend who needs a ride back to Alexandria, that's it. If you tell her anything-"

"You don't think she-"

"No, I don't!" Nan fires so fiercely. "I don't think anything you think. I am her mother and I decide what's best for her and what she should know, do you understand me? You don't have any rights to her, got it?"

I stare back.

"I know you spent years thinking you knew better than everyone else, but you were wrong and when it comes to our daughter, you don't know shit."

Fuck, she's got me silent. I don't know if it's out of anger or dejectedness.

Nan takes a breath, closing her eyes a little tight.

"You alright?" Dwight asks, standing up.

She winces. "Yeah, it's just gas."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Nan breathes through and opens her eyes again, "The last rule is that can't be alone with her."

I feel a little offended by that last rule. "You afraid I'm gonna make off with her?"

"Keep talking and you can go back to the garage right now." Dwight sneers.

I refrain from rolling my eyes.

"The rules are clear," Nan says, "Simple and easy to follow. If you break 'em, then it's back to the garage, if not worse."

"I'd rather you kill me than stick me back in that oven."

"Break a rule and we can make that happen." She retorts. Feisty.

I nod my head, exhaling, somewhat reluctant. "Alright. If that's what it takes, then I agree to your little house rules."

They both look sternly at me.

"I'll go for gas tomorrow morning," Dwight assures Nan, "Before it gets hot."

"Okay." She barely mouths.

Dwight goes off down the hall.

Nan stares for a few moments more, before sighing through her nose and going to the kitchen.

I can't help but smile. I don't know if it's luck, or some sympathetic bastard is looking out for me, but I fucking made it. Told you; aces.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Sorry for the day's delay and the shortness of the chapter. I moved back into my student housing and began the nest quarter, so it has been a very hectic week.**

 **But Negan has finally burst their little bubble and it's only gonna get fun from here! And dramatic, especially since Sherry was scarping the surface up until Negan's arrival.**

 **Hope you all enjoy!**


	27. Chapter 27

The extra blankets from the closet have a faint dusty smell from being folded away for so long without use. I let one fall out of order and whip it out to try and chase some of the staleness away while Dwight's locking up around the house. Birdie takes the other end and makes a game out of helping me air out the blanket. Every time the blanket floats up like a parachute, she releases her end and runs under as it softly flows back down, laughing and then standing underneath like a ghost.

She's spent a great deal of the day at my side. She's definitely curious of the stranger in the house, but she sticks close to me. My pregnant belly makes for a convenient hiding spot to watch carefully from behind.

Her choice to be shy is probably because the three adults aren't talking with one another or even in the same room. Whatever room Negan is in, the three of us are in the opposite. There's nothing to cuff him to. I've never disliked being in my kitchen before.

Dwight comes into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Where's-"

"He's on the couch." Dwight immediately replies, peeling off his jacket.

I nod my head, picking up the refolded blanket.

"What's that?"

"A blanket," I answer, "I was going to give it to him."

Dwight looks at me as if wondering why I'd think Negan would deserve the courtesy of a blanket.

"I'll be right back."

"I'll take it." He reaches his hand out for it.

"I can do it."

"I'd prefer you didn't."

I knit my brows. "Why?"

"Because I...just prefer you didn't."

"Oh…" I say, "Well, I'd like to."

He finds this puzzling. "Why would you like to?"

I shrug. "I just would."

Dwight stares for a moment, still trying to wrap his head around it.

"I'll be right back."

"Me, too." Birdie starts to follow.

"No, you stay with Daddy," I halt her, "He's gonna run you a bath before bed."

"I don't wanna bath."

"Well, too bad," I open the door, sliding out, "I'll be right back."

Closing the door and being alone in the hallway feels strange. Looking down the hallway feels even stranger. The walls seem like they're closing in. I feel vulnerable.

But I walk down the hall anyway, unable to turn and go back inside my bedroom with the blanket still in hand. The lights are all off except for what I think is the lamp in the living room. When I reach the end of the hall, I find Negan pulling off his boots on the couch readying himself for bed.

He turns his head after a moment of me standing there. He smiles. "Well, hello."

I feel the blanket on top of my hand. "I brought you a blanket."

"How courteous."

I tread into the room. "Here."

"Thanks." Negan takes the blanket.

I nod and turn to walk off.

"Thank you."

"Mhm."

"I mean for letting me stay here."

I pause.

"I know it's because of you that I'm not dead or roasting alive in that garage"

I don't look over at him. "It's just until we can take you back."

"I know, but I still appreciate it," He says, "And you."

I touch my baby bump and walk back to the bedroom in silence.

When I get inside, I close the door and lock it.

"I wanna wash my hair."

"Mom will wash your hair tomorrow."

Their voices echo off the wall in the bathroom. I go in.

"Mommy, I wanna wash my hair." Birdie says when she sees me.

"We'll wash it tomorrow when it's warmer."

Dwight stands up. "I'll let you take over."

He steps past me to the sink where he brushes his teeth.

I smile and sit beside the bathtub, putting my hands in the water for the washcloth.

"Mommy, your friend's sleeping over?"

I wring out the cloth. "Um, yeah."

"For a long time?"

"No, just until we can give him a ride home."

"Oh," She takes the cloth and washes her face, "He lives very far away?"

"He lives in Alexandria," I tell her, "Where Hal, Laura, and Daryl live."

"Oh." Birdie runs the cloth behind her ears.

I smile. "You about ready to get out?"

"Yeah."

I drape a towel around her and lift her out of the tub. "Did you grab her some pajamas?" I ask Dwight at the sink.

He spits into the sink. "I'll go grab her some now." He sticks his toothbrush back in the holder and leaves the bathroom.

"And her toothbrush!" I call out.

"And her toothbrush."

I set Birdie on the space between the two sinks. "Daddy will be right back."

"'Kay."

I take a few minutes to brush my teeth as we wait. He comes back promptly with Birdie's pajamas, but has to go back to get her toothbrush after forgetting it. When Birdie's finally ready for bed, I lay down with her and read her a bedtime story until she falls asleep.

I try to make myself comfortable for bed without waking Birdie up. I watch as Dwight moves around the room. He looks agitated as he goes back and forth from bathroom to the dresser and from the dresser to his side of the bed to back to the dresser. His routine is all jumbled and thrown off.

"You took your boots off in the bathroom."

Dwight looks over in his paused state, trying to figure out why his boots weren't by his bedside. "Oh."

He goes into the bathroom and returns, placing his boots by the bed where he always keeps them. He sits down on the bed with a deep sigh. He runs his hands through his hair as he breathes, letting them slide down to his mouth as he thinks in silence.

I stare at the back of him. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He shortly answers, exhaling as he stands up to get out of his pants.

"You left your pajama bottoms on the top of the dresser."

Dwight curses under his breath before walking over to the dresser to get the flannel bottoms he sleeps in. He undresses there and leaves his clothes on the floor by the dresser, probably too frustrated to pick them up.

When he comes back over, he slides under the covers and lays on his back with another sigh through his nose.

"Are you sure-"

"I said I'm fine."

I look at him. "Are you gonna turn the light off?"

He stares up at the light over our heads, swearing again, and then pulling himself up to go turn off the light by the door.

I can't help but chuckle a little.

"What's so funny?"

"You."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you keep forgetting to do stuff and you're getting so pissed."

"So would you if you kept having to get up and go back and forth."

"Yeah, but I'd probably just ask you do it for me."

"Yeah, well…" He smiles a little, "I don't have a wife that's that nice, so I have to do shit myself."

"Well, I am already in bed and it takes me a minute to get up, but if you ask me after I have the baby, I'll be glad to."

"Sure, if you're not dead tired."

I smile. "I'd get up for you."

He stares up towards the ceiling and begins to chuckle. "I forgot to turn on the overhead fan."

I snicker with him. "Leave it."

"If I do, you're gonna wake me up complaining it's too hot."

"I promise I won't."

Dwight gets up anyway and goes over to turn the fan on. He lays down again and exhales, this time peacefully.

"Will you sleep tonight?"

"Yeah," He says unconvincingly, "Will you?"

I listen to the crickets chirp outside. "...Yeah."

"Good." He answers after a pause.

…

The birds start waking up a little before dawn. Once they begin to sing in the new day, I can't lay here any longer with my eyes closed, pretending to sleep. I open my eyes to my wife and daughter both sound asleep. I ease myself out of bed to avoid waking them.

Normally, I'd shower, brush my teeth, etc. but I'm too tired to bother at the moment. I didn't sleep at all last night. Every sound alerted me. Besides, how could I when he's on the other side of the door?

I get dressed and put my gun to it's holster, before opening the door quietly and shutting it. I lock the door from the outside and go down the hall. It's quiet, which makes me cautious. But when I come into the living room, I find him sleeping with one leg off the couch and the blanket Nan brought him draped over him. I think about it for a few moments, before I head into the kitchen to brew coffee and caffeine-free tea.

He starts to stir awake when the coffee maker turns on. I'd go and get the eggs from the coop, but I'm not gonna leave this house with him inside it and the girls still asleep. Birdie's been wanting waffles anyway.

"Mornin'."

I look over to acknowledge him, but I don't reply.

He groans. "I always hated sleeping on the couch," He says, sitting up, "Of course, I can't say I never deserved it."

Again, I don't respond.

"Can I have a cup of that?"

I glance over as I'm pouring a cup of coffee for myself. I fight the urge to tell him no, before I get another cup out of the cupboard.

"I take it black," He comes into the kitchen for the coffee, "Used to like a little cream and sugar but my prison days cured me of that." He takes the cup from off the counter with that annoying smirk of his. "But I guess I'm still in my prison days, aren't I?"

"Yeah." I answer plainly.

He eyes me up, towering over me by a few inches. He smiles when our eyes meet. I just stare back at him.

Negan then walks over to the kitchen table, pulls out a chair, and sits down, stretching his legs out under the table. He takes a sip of his coffee. "What is this?" Columbian?"

"I don't know." I check my watch for the time.

"What's the hot water for?" He nods towards the kettle on the stove.

"What do you think?" I open up the cupboard where Nan's got the tea and coffee. She likes this decaf breakfast tea that has a bold taste. I usually let some mint from her herb garden steep in there to help her stomach.

"Thought Nan was a coffee girl."

I look over at him as I grab a cup.

"Coffee in the morning, tea in the evening," He continues with the cup to his lips, "Wine if she had to spend the night with me. At least in the beginning."

I feel the teacup in my hand. I harden my grip around it. What the hell am I doing? Why am I allowing this asshole in my house? To sleep on my couch and have coffee at my table? Why haven't I killed him?

The kettle starts to scream and I loosen my hold on the teacup. I go to the kettle and transfer it to a cool burner.

I pour the hot water into the cup and stare as the teabag bleeds out into the water.

"Dwight?"

I turn from the counter and look towards the hall. "Yeah?"

I hear quick footsteps in response. Nan comes into the kitchen with Birdie. She gives me Birdie's hand, covering her mouth with her other hand.

"Here, take her."

She then turns around and walks out in a hurry.

"Morning, Daddy."

I look down at Birdie. "Morning, Bird."

"Mommy's sick."

"Yeah, I know."'

"I'm hungry."'

"I'm making breakfast," I pet her head, "Why don't you go play in your room for a bit?"

"No, I wanna play here with you."

"I've gotta make breakfast, Birdie."

"I wanna help."

"Alright, you can help."

"Here," She reaches up towards the steaming teacup, "I take it to her."

"Let's wait awhile."

"'Kay."

A chuckle from the table makes both of us look over. Birdie seems to have forgotten about Negan being here by the way her brows have gathered.

"Well, good morning."

"G'morning." She greets back, polite but leery. She touches my hand.

I take her hand. "Come on, let's go collect the eggs."

"And feed them."

"Yeah, and feed them," I look over at Negan, "Get up."

"Oh, I'm good, thanks," Negan replies, "See, I walked all the way here, so I'm game for a little R&R."

"I wasn't asking," I say bluntly, "Get up."

He sighs, setting down his coffee mug. "Alright, whatever you say."

"I'll get Mommy."

"She'll come out when she's ready, Bird," I redirect her, "Let's go the eggs."

"Nan gonna be long?"

"Holy shit," He remarks, "You've got quite the fucking garden going on here."

I take Birdie over to the coop while he admires the vegetables.

"Daddy, I wanna feed 'em."

I scoop out a decent amount of chicken feed. "Alright, make sure you scatter it."

Birdie takes the pan of feed. She grips a fistful of the feed and tosses it at the ground as I let the chickens out.

I move to the side when the rooster charges at me in his usual manner, trying to ignore him so I can get the job done.

"Here." Birdie offers up the pan.

I turn my head to reply to her, when I see Negan reaching for some feed.

"Thank you, darlin'."

"You have to throw it," She demonstrates, "Like this."

"Like this?" Negan scatters chicken feed over the ground where the hens are pecking.

"Yeah." Birdie confirms, scooping up another handful. She offers Negan the pan again.

"Birdie, come over here."

She walks over and continues to feed the chickens away from him.

"Nan gonna be long?"

"Don't worry about it."

I close up the doors to the nests and fasten the lock I just installed a few days ago. I catch a glance at Negan observing.

His eyes pick up to mine, curious. "Fox in the hen house?"

I scoff. "Come on, Bird."

"Good job." She tells him as we pass.

He follows us into the house.

…

I have the most beautiful daughter in the whole goddamn world. She's hands down the cutest kid I've ever seen and I was an educator for twenty plus years, so I think I know what the fuck I'm talking about.

I don't mean to sound like a fucking creep, but I can't take my eyes off her. She's been in the kitchen all morning helping Dwight make waffles. She'll occasionally wander in to the living room and when she does, it's just to observe. She comes in and either takes a toy, or stands over by the armchair; every time finding my gaze, before running back into the kitchen to Dwight.

Dwight's been keeping a close watch on me, too. He's called her back over a few times. Like I'd do anything. She's my daughter for Christ's sake. I'd never do anything to hurt her or make her hate my guts. I've only got this one shot to make a good impression before it's back to the cell.

Nan treads into sight, walking past me into the kitchen.

"Mommy!"

"Hey, Bird." She touches a kind hand to Birdie's head.

"We're making waffles!"

"Oh, it smells delicious."

"How you feeling?"

"Fine." She sniffs.

"I made your tea for you."

"Oh, thanks but I'll drink it later," She says, "Right now I just wanna sit down. My head feels like it weighs twenty pounds from hanging over the toilet."

"You need to stay hydrated," Dwight argues, "I'll get you some of that electrolyte powder."

"Whatever." She softly exhales as she moseys her way to the living room.

She halts in her yoga pants and t-shirt when she sees me sitting in the middle of the couch, as if she didn't realize I was here. Her eyes look drained and red. Her complexion is flushed and sweaty and her hair is falling out of a ponytail.

"Mornin'." I greet.

Nan blinks and she moves towards the armchair with a forced casualty. "Good morning."

My eyes trail down to that pregnant belly of hers as she sits down. The same feeling of let down I felt yesterday when I was greeted at the front door with it. The same stomach ache.

"How did you sleep?"

I look up to see her waiting for my answer. "Like a baby."

Her eyes almost look to her belly, but go off elsewhere as she clears her raspy throat. "I'm glad."

"Thanks again."

"Mhm." She pulls her hair tie out of her hair and starts to put it up again.

I can tell by her slightly chilly air that she's trying to convey how unwelcome my being here is. But her subtle politeness in asking how I slept betrays her a little. It always has.

"Here." Dwight hands her the cup of tea he made an hour ago for her.

She smiles up at him, taking it. She rests the cup on her bump and it gives me uncomfortable nostalgia.

"How far along are you?" I ask on impulse.

Nan glances over at me. She seems to grow shy. "Uh, seven months."

I whistle. "I would've guessed nine, 'cause of your size, but either way that bun's about ready to come out of the oven."

Her eyes cast down at her stomach.

"Come on," Dwight puts out his hand to her, "Come sit in the kitchen."

"I'm okay." She replies, looking up and giving him a reassuring smile that's sort of fake.

He blinks from her to me and his eyes are fuckin' daggers. "Breakfast is almost done."

"Okay." She softly says as he turns to go back to the kitchen.

"Mommy," Birdie comes up to the chair, "I want Blanche."

"Oh, I think you left her with Lamby in my room."

"She's sleeping." She sighs.

"Go wake her up."

Birdie goes running down the hall.

"Who the hell is Blanche?"

"Her ragdoll," She answers, not looking at me, "Judith Grimes gave it to her for her birthday. It's a hand-me-down."

Figures Jude would outgrow dolls. My eyes gravitate back to her whale of a belly.

"You cut your hair."

I meet her eyes. "What?"

Nan looks at me curiously. "Your hair was unkept last time I came to see you. And you had a longer beard."

"Yeah, well, I shaved…" I inspect my hands, "Thought I'd come show you my new haircut since you stopped coming by."

Her eyes trail down. "I got busy."

"You certainly did."

She gives me a look. "I was pregnant the last time I saw you...I found out while Birdie was in the hospital."

I stare. I can feel the sick in stomach. "That why you stopped coming around? So I wouldn't know?"

Nan looks up again and our eyes meet.

"Mommy, Blanche got a boo-boo." Birdie brings Nan a doll.

"Oh, no," Nan calmly pities, inspecting the doll, "I'll have to sew her leg up. You play with something else until I can make her better."

"Okay." Birdie exhales, leaning her chin against the arm of the chair.

Nan delicately washes a hand over her head with a tired, maternal smile. She looks like hell, but she's still pretty.

"Breakfast is ready!" Dwight hollers

"Go wash your hands, Pidge."

"Okay, Mommy."

Nan then braces herself, putting both hands on the arms of the chair to hoist herself out of the chair. Just before she can make the effort, Dwight comes in and offers her a hand.

"I was gonna do it myself," She takes his hand, "I'm not a turtle on my back."

"Yeah, but how much more do you like it when I offer to help?"

She chuckles. "A lot."

He snickers, before looking over at me. His smile ends. "You, too."

"Oh, no thanks, I can get up on my own just fine."

He nearly rolls his eyes. "I meant, go to the table."

I stand up. "Don't have to tell me twice."

"We're going out to look for gas after," Dwight tells me, "So, don't be shy."

"Never am." I walk into the kitchen, sitting at the end of the table two chairs from Birdie.

"Do you like waffles?" She asks.

"Well, I'm more of eggs and bacon guy," I sit down, "But who am I to turn down golden brown waffles?"

She looks at me, puzzled by my answer.

"Yeah, I like waffles."

Nan sits down in the empty spot between us. She takes Birdie's plate and starts to cut her waffles into pieces.

"I want lots of syrup." Birdie tells her.

Nan drizzles syrup over her waffles bites.

"More, Mommy."

"That's plenty," Nan gives her plate back, "And I want you to eat your strawberries. Not just your waffles."

"'Kay."

"You want some more tea while I'm up?"

"No, I'm good."

"Any barbecue sauce?"

I look at him like he's crazy.

"Shut up." She snickers as she butters her waffles.

On her hand, I spy a little ring on her finger with a pathetic fleck of green in the middle. I shift my jaw, before peering down at my plate.

"How long have you kids been married?"

Nan looks up from her breakfast. "About seven months."

I can't help myself; I laugh under my breath.

They both turn their heads.

I clear my throat. "Sorry, congratulations."

Nan holds her gaze longer than Dwight. I don't look up, but I can feel the disapproval.

"Hell, I didn't think you'd ever make Nan an honest woman, but I guess nothing makes you rise to the occasion quicker than an unplanned pregnancy."

The legs to Dwight's chair jar against the floor in a loud, screeching sound.

"D." Nan halts him with a quick, yet calm tone. She takes her eyes off me and looks over at him, standing up from his spot. I can see from here where her eyes lead him.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" Birdie asks him with beautifully jolted eyes.

Dwight's eyes are full of hate. His nostrils flare as he exhales.

"Dwight."

He peers over at Nan, who very subtly shakes her head. His eyes shift back to me, before he exhales again and moves to exit the kitchen.

"Where you going?" Birdie inquires.

Dwight doesn't reply. He just stalks out the kitchen door, slamming it a little.

"I wanna go, too!" Birdie looks to her mother.

"Eat your breakfast, Birdie." Nan gets up from the table. She walks over to the window by the sink and looks out to see where he went.

"Where's Daddy, Mommy?"

Nan stares out. "He's just getting some air."

"I was gonna say him and I were two peas in a pod," I chime in, "If he would've just held on for a minute more."

Nan looks over with her hand on her belly.

"I mean, at least I was married to y-"

"Shut up." She softly, but firmly commands.

I look over at Birdie, who's busy eating.

"Why did you say that?"

I stifle an eye roll. "Oh, come on, was it really that offensive?"

"Dwight is the real reason you are sitting here right now, eating breakfast freely. Not me," She retorts, "If he had said no to letting you out of that garage, you would've stayed there."

I scoff at her in disbelief.

"He could have let you die in there," Nan treads back to the table, "Or killed you outside when he had a chance."

"A stronger man would've." I pick up my coffee mug.

"Than count yourself lucky Dwight's not as strong as you."

The implication in 'you' puts me to bitter silence.

…

"How long will you be gone?"

"Not long," I screw the lid on my canteen, "We're going to Barton. It's a town just past Camden. There should be some gas left to siphon there."

She holds her elbows, anxious. "How far away is it?"

"About thirty minutes out."

"That far?"

"It's not that far."

"It is walking distance," Nan says, "It could take you hours to walk to Barton."

"We're not walking."

"I know, you're wasting more of our gas."

"So, we can get more gas. Would you rather we walk it?"

"No," She sighs, "I just don't know that I like you being alone with him."

"I can handle Negan."

"Well, I also don't like being alone for a few hours."

I furrow my brows with a smile. "It's only a few hours."

"I know, but…" Her eyes falter as her mouth pauses.

"But?"

Nan picks up her gaze. She smiles softly. "I just don't want you to go."

"We need gas in order to take him back," I touch her arms, "The sooner we get it done, the sooner we can go back to living our lives."

"Yeah…" She stares over at the truck, where Negan's sitting in the passenger's seat, cuffed to the door. "I think you should leave him behind, Dwight."

"What?"

"You'd work faster without having to watch him," She tells me, "He could run off from you, or…"

"Kill me?"

Nan looks at me.

"Yeah, that could be," I agree, "But if he stays here, he could kill you and take Birdie, or force both of you to leave with him."

"He wouldn't do that," She says, "There's nowhere for him to take us."

"That doesn't mean he wouldn't try."

"I'm seven months pregnant and Birdie's three years old," She mildly argues, "Negan's smart enough to know that he could never take us into the woods or on the road. We'd have to go by foot to avoid getting caught."

I stare at her rational eyes. "He could hurt you, Nan. And Birdie."

She looks down, nodding as she considers this. Her mouth twists to the side. "He could...but he won't."

"You don't know that."

"He's not a monster," She looks up at me, "I told Rick and Daryl that when they came looking for him. I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't believe it now that he's here."

"Better to be a hypocrite than a dead fool."

"Trust me," Nan insists, "Negan wouldn't hurt us if you leave him here."

"I'm not leaving him here," I shake my head, "I'm not taking that risk."

"If I'm wrong, then he'd kill you out there and come back for Birdie and me."

I scoff. "Honey-"

"If he takes us while you're gone and you come back to an empty house, then you can search for us and kill him. You and I both know he couldn't take us far and he can't stay here."

"Do you hear yourself?" I ask her, incredulous. "You're basically saying it's okay if he kidnaps you and our daughter."

"No, I'm saying that if he did, which he won't, then it would be better if you were alive, so you could find us," She tries to clarify, "If he kills you and then kidnaps us, we could be gone by the time anyone in town ever came around wondering why I hadn't come to have my baby."

"I'm sorry, but you're out of your mind, if you think I'm leaving him here."

Nan brings her lips to a close. Her eyes don't look pouty, like I thought they would. Instead she looks deeply bothered. Like she's worried, or afraid.

"It'll be okay, Nan," I assure her, diffused, "I can handle Negan."

She nods her head, but she's still got a concerned look on her face as she holds her elbows.

I lick my lip. "I can't leave him here with you and Birdie."

"What if he stayed cuffed?" She looks at me. "You could cuff him to the oven door."

"The oven door?"

She shrugs. "Or the door to the fridge; those are the only places I could think of that he wouldn't be able to break from."

"Nan-"

"Are we gonna fuckin' hit the road, or what?" Negan calls out from the window. "You're siphoning gas, not going off to war. Let's roll!"

I look at her and she knows what I'm thinking. She tries not to smile. "It's only gonna get worse the further down the road you get with him."

I glance over my shoulder at him. He's looking right at us, grinning as we look back. I can't leave him here with the girls.

…

I hum a Swedish song to myself as I roll the molasses dough into balls on the floured counter in my kitchen. My grandma used to hum and sing all the time when I was growing up, especially in the bakery, which is probably why it always returns to my mind whenever I'm cooking or baking. I don't know how to sing the words exactly; there's only one verse I could speak under my breath but that I'm not sure I'm actually saying it correctly.

I wish I had learned at some point in my life to either speak my grandparents' language or at the very least enough to sing that song to Birdie. It was so light and airy and soothing.

"Mommy, Blanche has a boo-boo."

"I know, I'll fix her," I tell her, "But I'm doing something right now."

"What you doing?"

"I'm making cookies."

"Mm, I like cookies."

"Me, too."

"Me, three."

My smile lowers and I look over at Negan, cuffed to the door of the refrigerator.

"Smells damn good, Mom."

"Birdie go put Blanche in your room," I tell her, "I'll fix her as soon as I'm done."

"'Kay." Birdie trots off.

"You know, my neighbor used to make molasses cookies during the winter when I was a kid."

I go back to rolling out the cookies.

"And gingerbread," He goes on, "But Ms. Olsen didn't look nearly as smokin' as you."

I scoff, unflattered and bent on ignoring him.

"Although, at the moment, you are almost as big as she was."

"I'm seven months pregnant with my second child," I curtly reply, "Excuse me for not maintaining my figure."

"Oh, I don't mind," He smartly retorts, "I think you look adorable in your frumpy little pregnancy dress and apron."

I take the pan of cookies to the oven. He watches as I place them in.

"Hey, is it true the more kids you have, the harder it is to lose the baby weight?" Negan asks me. "'Cause through the bars you seemed like you lost it, well, most of it, after Birdie and you look like you got a little fatter with baby number two. What's your weight loss strategy?"

I shut the oven door. "I'm gonna go lay Birdie down for a nap."

"Do kids her age still take naps?"

"Yes." I leave the kitchen and enter the hallway.

I pause for a moment to take a deep breath. I chose this; I told Dwight everything would be okay and that I had a thicker skin than he did when it came to Negan's incessant talking and taunting.

That is afterall why Dwight decided to leave him behind. I think my reason for why Birdie and I would be safe, which I believe, started to sink in, but what really changed his mind I think was the idea of having to ride around looking for gas on a hot summer day with Negan.

Once I've taken a moment to breathe, I go find Birdie. She's in her room, sitting at her little tea table with her head in her hands.

"What's with the pout?" I ask her. "Did you hear me say it was naptime?"

She sighs, a little dramatically. "No."

"Then what's up?"

"Your friend's in the way."

I puzzle my brows. "In the way?"

"Yeah, I can't see my drawings." She tells me.

"Oh," I nod in understanding, "Well, it's just until Daddy gets back."

"Why did Daddy put him there?" Birdie asks me with furrowed brows. "Is he in trouble?"

"Um...yeah, he's in timeout."

"Why?" Birdie inquires. " 'Cause he says bad words?"

"Y-yes, which is against the rules."

"Oooh."

"Yeah, so I'm sorry he's in the way of your drawings, but it's just for a little bit."

"Okay." She sighs again.

I smile. "How about you take a nap? When you wake up Blanche will be all better and you can have a cookie."

"I wanna go swing, Mommy."

"Um...we'll see."

"Okay."

"Alright, let's go lay down."

"Mommy, is your friend nice or mean?"

"He's...complicated," I tell her as she lays down on her bed, "I think Negan likes to pick on people, but doesn't mean it in a mean way. Which is still mean, which is why he's always in timeout."

"He's a jerk?"

"Don't call names," I stroke her hair, "But yes."

After she goes to sleep, I leave, taking Blanche with me. I get my sewing kit out of the closet and head to the kitchen to sew up the rip in the seam of her leg while I wait on the first batch of cookies.

As I'm about to enter the kitchen, my eyes fall on Negan. He's standing there at the fridge, waiting for me. I think twice and sit in the living room where I can keep an eye on him at a distance.

"Hiding?"

"The couch is better on my back."

"Yeah, sure I'll watch your cookies for you. No problem," He sarcastically says, "If you need anything to drink I've got you covered there, too."

I take out my needle and thread. I carefully try to thread the needle which is always the toughest.

"You fixing her doll in there?"

"Yes."

"Huh," He says, "I forgot you could sew."

"I didn't before, but it's not much different from embroidery, so it wasn't hard to pick up."

"Well, look at you," His tone has some humor to it, "You went from stitching naughty gestures to playing doll hospital."

I take my glasses out my apron, so I can get a better look at my stitching.

"Hey, can I have a chair or something?" He asks. "I've been fucking standing here for two hours."

"Just sit on the floor."

"I've tried, my ass can't reach the ground."

I exhale, annoyed. "Alright, I'm coming."

I set Blanche down and push myself off the couch, despite being comfortable. I then go into the kitchen, grab the chair nearest to him and set it right next to him.

"There."

"Thank you, kindly." Negan starts to angle the chair just right so he can sit.

I turn to go back.

"Hey, wait a minute, don't go."

"I'm just going back to the living room."

"Sew the doll up in here."

"No."

"Oh, come on," He pleads with a slight groan, "I'm gonna keep talking to you either way."

"Then what does it matter where I sit?"

"Because it does," Negan says, "Just down at the table. I'll be on my best behavior."

I go into the living room, resolved in sitting there. But just as I'm about to sit down, the timer in the kitchen goes off. I sigh, frustrated, before I go into the kitchen to take the cookies out of the oven.

"Smells good."

I reach into the oven with my oven mitts. I flinch and hiss through my teeth. "Shit."

"What?"

I set the tray down on top of the stove with a little force. I wince, taking off my mitts. "I accidentally burned my arm." I inspect the line reddening across my forearm. "Right where the oven mitt ends."

"You alright?"

"Yeah, it's just a little burn." I get into a drawer and rummage for some burn ointment.

"Run it under room temperature water."

"I'm going to." I say, going to the sink.

The water stings my burn a little, but after a few seconds it's not so bad. I dry it delicately and unscrew the ointment. It smells awful, pungent with eucalyptus.

"Man, that shit fucking stinks."

"I know," I put the tube back in the drawer, "Dwight hates the smell so bad he won't use it." I halt my footsteps, looking up at him. "But I think it's more of a trauma thing."

Negan sits there cuffed to the fridge.

I walk back into the living room."Aren't you gonna put the rest of the cookies in?"

I refrain from groaning even though I want to. I turn and go back. I have two warm cookies when I'm done.

I glance over at him staring at me. It's almost like how Birdie would look at me if I were eating a cookie in front of her.

"Do you want one?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

I offer him one and he takes it.

"Thanks," He sinks his teeth into it, "Mm! You make a mean ass cookie."

I brush some flour off my apron. "That's why I worked the baker's station."

"I don't think I ever ate anything of yours," He chews, grinning suddenly, "Well, actually-"

"Don't say it." I snap. Just as I do, the baby kicks me a little too eagerly.

"What?"

"Nothing," I head to the living room, "The baby just kicked."

"Huh," Negan replies, "Girl, or boy?"

"We don't know," I pick up the doll, "The machine at Alexandria hasn't been working and I'm not going all the way to Hilltop or the Kingdom to use theirs. If theirs even work."

"What do you want?"

"A baby."

"Yeah, yeah, healthy and happy," He says, "Aside from all that, what do you want to have? Boy or girl?"

"I don't have a preference." I take Blanche and the sewing kit to the kitchen.

"You're a damn liar."

"Watch your mouth," I shoot him a look, "Birdie repeats bad words."

"A chip off her old man's shoulder."

"And you-"

"Yeah, I know." He rolls his eyes.

I sit at the table.

"Boy or girl?"

"Alright, a boy."

"A boy?" He looks me over. "Why?"

"I don't know," I shrug, "Just to see what it's like to have a boy, I guess."

"You want a mama's boy."

"No."

"Liar."

"Stop calling me a liar."

"Just admit that's why."

"You really want me to admit that?"

He grins. "I do."

I bite my tongue. "Fine. I want a boy, so I can have a mama's boy, because Birdie is a daddy's girl."

Negan's grin fades and it makes me regret what I said. He looks down at the floor and I go back to sewing up Birdie's doll in silence.

I finish the little project and snip the thread. I look over the doll to make sure she's perfectly fine everywhere else. It's funny, Birdie really isn't into dolls but she loves Blanche whose name I have no clue as to where Birdie got it from. I think she was gonna call her something else, I can't remember what, but then all of the sudden she just started calling her Blanche. She can barely pronounce it.

The sound of a truck lifts my head up. I know it's not ours, because ours doesn't run that loud. I get up and go to the front to see who it is, fearing it might be someone from Alexandria. But when I open the door, all I see is the back of a white truck fading in down the road. I knit my brows as it grows farther away; I think it looks familiar.

I shut the door, lock it, and then go back to the kitchen.

"Have they come to collect?"

I look over at Negan.

"Rick?"

"No," I walk back to the stove, "Just a passing car."

"A passing car?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you say that like it shouldn't bother you?"

"Why should it?"

"Because it could be anyone," He says, "And you're all alone out here."

"I know who it was."

"Who?"

I transfer the cool cookies into the cookie jar. "Someone who lives on the fringe."

"What like a hermit?"

"I guess."

"And you aren't afraid of 'em?" Negan asks me. "You know this hermit?"

"Yes."

"And D trusts him?"

"Why do you assume it's a man?"

"How many lady hermits have you fuckin' heard of?"

"That's a stupid argument."

"I didn't hear you name any."

I roll my eyes. "I don't know."

"You don't know what?"

"I don't know if Dwight trusts them."

"Then why the fuck would he leave his wife and stepdaughter alone for a few hours?"

"I don't know," I shrug my shoulders, "Maybe he doesn't think they'd do anything to hurt us. We lock the doors and windows."

"Oh, 'cause that's an excellent way to stop dangerous people that want to get in."

"Let's drop it," I sit back down at the table, "I don't want to talk about it anymore.

Negan looks at me as I sit there. "Are you afraid of this guy?"

I touch my belly as the baby kicks a little. "No, I'm not afraid of him."

"Huh," He nods, "Okay, then."

"...Were you afraid that it was Rick?"

"No," Negan replies, adjusting in his chair, "Well, maybe a little bit."

"Because you don't want to go back?"

"Well, no fuckin' duh, I don't want to go back," He chuckles, "Once I go back to that cell, it's all over for me."

I look over. "You think he'd kill you?"

"Nah, just strip me of every last privilege I had," He says, "Until I've got only the jumpsuit on my back, my shitty cot, and my bedpan."

I nod. "Back to where you started."

"Yep," He reclines, "It's my own fault really. I got caught helping Jude with her homework and well, this is gonna take the fucking cake for damn sure."

"I heard."

Negan's brows furrow a little.

"Rick came here looking for you," I clarify, "He told me what you did."

"Yeah, well...I'm a bad man."

I offer a crumb of a smile.

"Mommy?" Birdie pads into the kitchen with messy hair.

"Hey, you woke up?" I look at the clock. "It's only been thirty minutes."

"I'm thirsty."

"I'll get you some water." I get up yet again.

"Can I have a cookie?"

"Sure, baby," I turn the sink on, "Go sit at the table and I'll make you a snack."

"Blanche is all better?"

"Mhm."

"She had a boo-boo."

"I kn-"

"Aw, how'd she manage to get a nasty gash like that?"

I turn and see Birdie showing Blanche to Negan.

"Um, running," She makes up, "From deaders."

"Yeah, well, that'll sure as hell do it," He muses, "I've got some pretty gnarly ones from running from those...deaders, too."

"Me, too."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, um, on my knee." She lifts and points to her knee.

"Where?"

"Here."

"I don't see anything."

"Yeah, right here!"

"Are you pulling my leg?" He chuckles, "Because that is the barest fucking knee I've ever seen, little lady."

"You said a bad word."

He makes a shocked frown. "Oops." He smiles when she snickers.

"Birdie." I put her water and cookie on the table.

Birdie comes to the table and snatches her cookie off the plate, going back over to Negan. The shy spell is broken.

"You're in the way."

"In the way of who? You?"

"Of my drawings." She points behind him.

Negan glances over his shoulder. "Oh, my goodness, I had no clue I was blocking such fine art."

"You need to move."

He laughs a little. "Yeah, well, I would gladly scoot, but I gotta wait until your...dad gets home before I can."

"Mommy, when is Daddy coming home?"

I make myself smile at her when she looks over. "Soon."

…

It's nearly completely dark by time I hear Dwight pull up. I made dinner an hour ago, and because he wasn't here and Birdie was hungry, we ate without him. I go to the door to meet him. When he comes in, he smells like gasoline and cigarette smoke.

"Hey."

"Hey." He gruffs.

"I thought you'd be home sooner."

"Yeah, I'm sorry," He wipes his sweaty, dirty forehead, "I searched all over Barton and didn't find anything, so I went further up."

"And?"

Dwight exhales. "Nothing. It's all been drained."

I curse inward. "So, what does that mean?"

"It means I look at the map and try again tomorrow."

I nod, twisting my mouth to the side.

"Where's Birdie?"

"Um, watching her movie."

Dwight just now notices the sound in the background. "Oh," He looks at me, more serious, "Negan give you any trouble?"

"Well, he's cuffed to the fridge, so aside from making as many comments about my weight as he can, no."

"You hit him?"

"No, of course not."

"Too bad."

I give him a look. "D."

"Daddy!"

"Hey, Bird!" He calls back. "I'm gonna take a shower to get the grime off me."

"Okay, I saved you some dinner."

"Thanks."

Dwight goes to head down the hall.

"Um, D?"

"What?"

"The key to the cuffs."

"What?"

"Negan's been cuffed to the fridge all day," I remind him, "The deal was he'd be uncuffed when you got home."

"He can wait fifteen more minutes."

"Dwight," I insist, "I've had to give him a bucket to piss in all day."

"Alright, here." He gives me the keys from his jacket.

"Thank you."

Dwight showers for about twenty minutes. I release Negan from the fridge and Birdie invites him to sit in the living room with us after he goes to the bathroom.

"Do I smell molasses cookies?" Dwight asks as he returns.

I peer over my shoulder towards the hall. "Yeah I made two baker's dozens this afternoon."

"I'm surprised you haven't made yourself sick, eating all those…" He pauses as he comes into the living room.

I don't have to follow his gaze to know he's looking at Negan sitting on the couch, leaned towards the coffee table. Birdie's got her name puzzle out.

"Daddy!" Birdie gets up and runs over to Dwight.

"Hey, baby." He picks her up, kissing her cheek.

"We're doing my puzzle." She points to the table.

"Yeah, I see that." His eyes meet mine.

"Some fine craftsmanship, D." Negan smiles.

Dwight scoffs, not flattered.

I scratch at my thumb."Come on, let's go heat up your dinner."

"I wanna cookie, Daddy."

"You want a cookie?" He carries her. "How many have you had today?"

"Um, this many." She holds up one finger.

"Only one?" Dwight sits with her at the table. "Are you fibbing?"

"No!" She chuckles.

"Alright, then, you can have another cookie."

I put his plate in front of him with a fork.

"Thank you."

"You want something to drink?"

"Yeah."

I get him some water.

"Thanks, honey."

I smile softly, before getting Birdie and myself a cookie.

"So, you'll go out again tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

I nod my head, sitting quietly.

"What happens if we can't find gas?"

"Then we'll have to try and reach Alexandria."

I nod again. "How much gas did you use today?"

"More than we can afford to use going up past Barton."

"So, he'll be here longer than we thought?"

"Yeah," He stops eating to look over at me, "You good with that?"

"Um, yeah," I sigh "I don't really have a choice."

He nods, going back to his dinner as Birdie eats her cookie in his lap.

"If he is here longer, though," I say, "I think we need to set new rules."

Dwight glances back over. "Yeah?"

My eyes find Negan sitting in the living room. "Yeah."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading :)**


	28. Chapter 28

The morning begins like all the other mornings have for the past seven months. I woke up nauseous and got sick, but only for about thirty minutes today, before taking a lukewarm shower to cool me. After I dry off and get dressed for the day, I take my mint tea off my night stand and pad barefoot to the kitchen for breakfast.

I've been doing really well keeping most things down. The smell of eggs still gags me, but I can hold it in. I usually can handle smells after the morning, except for the smell of venison, which we've been refraining from since we discovered it made me sick.

Because the day turned out to be so nice, I told Dwight we should work outside. After he agreed, I suggested he work in the garden, but he said he'd rather do the laundry. I think he didn't realize that I was a little behind on it, so it's taken him almost three hours to wash everything, especially since our line can only hold so much at a time.

"Mommy, look what I got."

I unbend from over the planter box to see. "Oh, what is that?"

"A worm!"

I smile. "No, that's a caterpillar, silly."

"Oh," She watches as the little grey crawly thing inches across her fingers, "A caterpillar."

"Be careful with him," I tell her, "He's just a little fella."

"Okay, Mommy."

"In fact, why don't you go give it to your dad," I go back to my work, "Away from the garden."

"'Kay!" She runs off. "Daddy, look!"

I use my forearm to pat sweat away from my face. I briefly glance over to Negan, working a few feet away from me. Then, I gently pat the soil around after I had put down some fresh fertilizer.

"You know, I gotta say, this is a sweet ass garden," Negan says as he works, "I've never seen fruits and veggies so fucking vibrant."

I briefly look over. "Well, Dwight's to thank for that," I tell him, "God knows I can't get anything to grow. That lemon tree over there?"

Negan looks over his shoulder. "That's a lemon tree?"

"Yes," I try not to take it sorely, "I planted that shortly after we moved here, without Dwight's help, and it's never once produced a lemon."

"Shit, I thought you just planted that or something," He shifts back forward, "It's no taller than Birdie."

"Quit exaggerating," I huff, "Dwight said it's about six feet."

"Well, it's still fucking short."

"I know that." I exhale.

"I'm only giving you a hard time."

"I know that, too."

"Mommy!" Birdie comes back over. "Mommy, I wanna swing."

"Have Daddy push you," I say to her, "Mommy's working."

"Daddy said 'later.'"

"Well, you'll have to wait then, Bird."

"Aww!" She wails.

"See if Daddy needs help."

"I don't want to help."

"Then sit here with me."

"No!"

"Watch your tone."

"I don't want to."

"Would you rather sit in time out?"

"No!"

"Then behave yourself."

Birdie puts her arms around me. "I love you, Mommy."

I peck her cheek. "Love you, too, Pidge. Now go play."

She releases me from her embrace. She lingers instead of running along, looking over at Negan in the garden, who smiles when he takes notice of her staring.

"Go play, baby." I encourage her.

"You're not fun." She pouts as she walks off in a sulk.

"I know." I sigh, unoffended by her toddler insult.

"You know, I could-"

"Could you bring me the watering can?" I point to it on the ground.

"Sure." He walks over to the watering can, picks it up, and brings it to me.

"Thanks." I begin to water.

"You alright?"

"Yes."

"You sure?" He asks, staring down at me. "'Cause you look uncomfortable."

"I am," I admit, "But I'm okay."

"Your back?  
"Yeah, but like I said I'm okay to keep working. We're almost done anyway."

Negan remains standing there. "You know, I could finish it myself. Let you get off your swollen feet."

"I said I'm fine, Negan." I say more adamantly.

"Ookay." He walks back to where he was. He crouches down to keep working. "You get those cramps?"

"No."

"Huh," He digs a small shovel into the dirt, "Could have sworn you had one a few days ago."

"When you came up to the house?" I use the planter box's wall to push myself up. "Yeah, that was a cramp. The first one I've had this pregnancy."

He looks up and meets my eyes and doesn't say anything to that.

"Hey," Dwight comes over, carrying a basket filled past the brim with laundry, "I'm gonna go put this away."

"Okay." I force a smile to hide my misery.

"You wanna head in for a bit?" He asks with knitted brows. Guess maybe I'm not easily convincing.

"No, I'm alright."

"You sure?"

"Mhm." I nod my head.

"Okay." He eyes Negan, before heading in.

Negan watches Dwight go into the house. He then blinks back to me. "Isn't he gonna call Rick?"

"Our radio doesn't reach that far," I tell him, "And we don't have enough gas to drive to a closer distance to call him."

"He could walk."

"That could day all day," I shake my head, "He doesn't want to leave me and Birdie here without a quick way to get back home."

He nods. "I could go with him."

"I...don't want him to go far without a quick way home."

He nods again, not too satisfied with the implication. "Well, so what then? You're stuck with me until gas rains from the sky, or someone comes up this way?"

I look at him, but I don't respond.

…

I end the day with a nice soak in the bathtub. My body is killing me and it's my own damn fault. I get oddly prideful about not being the fragile pregnant woman and it really isn't doing me any favors.

I get out and make my best attempt to wrap the towel around me all the way. I always forget to bring my change of clothes into the bathroom, so I have to walk out to get my pajamas.

Dwight's sitting in bed, reading a book with the front end folded back like he does.

"What are you reading now?"

"The same book."

"I don't think you'll ever finish that one." I softly say.

"I'm halfway through."

"You've been halfway through for about a year now."

"Well...I get distracted every time I try to put in the effort."

"I think you distract yourself more than anything else." I turn around.

He's got the book down on the nightstand. Birdie's laying on my side, curled into a warm ball.

"You're gonna have to let me slide in your way."

"Yeah."

I walk over to the bed. "Did you lock the door?"

"Yep."

I nod. "You could just scooch over and let me sleep on your side and you in the middle."

"I get up earlier than you."

"I get up to pee a lot."

"I don't mind moving for you."

"You are such a liar."

"Alright, I'll sleep in the middle."

I lay down in the bed as he moves for me. "My hero."

He wiggles over some more.

I bring the blanket to my chest. "I'm so tired."

"Me, too."

I turn to my side to get off my back. I look at him looking off somewhere. My arm reached over and rests across him. Leaning over, I kiss him a soft kiss on the scarred cheek.

"I love you."

"Love you, too." He breathes.

I study his face that hasn't changed expression. "D?"

"For what?"

I open my mouth, but my throat hurts. "Goodnight."  
"Goodnight."

A tear trails down my face as I close my eyes.

…

The garage traps heat in the summer. Even with the door open, it's like an oven. I guess it would have been cruel to leave Negan in here. Then again, it'd still beat the cells back at the Sanctuary. Sure as hell beats getting an iron to the face.

I put the cigarette to my mouth and take a drag as I stare out of the mouth of the garage. I didn't find gas a few days ago, but I found a couple pack of cigarettes I didn't tell Nan about. I had quit cold turkey, which was a bitch, but after Negan showed up, I'm back at it. I'm out here trying to hide it.

"Dwight?"

"Shit." I exhale smoke, putting the cigarette out on the paved floor of the garage.

"Dwight?"

"Yeah, I'm coming!" I go to the little sink and wash my hands. I swish and spit some water, too. If I walked in sucking on a mint, she'd know.

"Dwight?"

I open the garage to the house. "What?"

"I made lunch."

"Oh, okay," I shut the door behind me, "I'll be right there."

"What were you doing out there?"

"I was looking for a tool."

"Okay." She looks me over, before turning to go to the kitchen. "Birdie, come eat your lunch."

"I wanna play outside."

"After you eat lunch and take your nap." Nan pulls out Birdie's chair for her.

"Where's Negan?"

"He's still outside." She tells me, walking to the kitchen door she propped open.

I watch as she goes halfway between outside and inside.

"I made lunch."

He says something I can't make out.

"I said I made lunch," Nan repeats, "Do you wanna come in for a break?"

She walks back in.

"Mommy, I don't like these." Birdie holds up a thin cucumber slice.

"I want you to try them, before you decide that." Nan says, putting a plate with a sandwich at my place. "You want any cucumbers?"

"Did you-"

"Yes, I put some in your sandwich," She brings her own plate over, "Do you want any just to eat?"

"Oh, no." I bite into my sandwich.

She continues to stand by the table, staring at me. "Are you sure you don't want any to eat?"

I look up. "No."

Her eyes move to Birdie and then back at me.

"Je-sus!" Negan comes through the door. "It's fucking hotter than pussy out there."

Nan looks over at him unhappily. "Don't talk like that."

Negan swipes the grime and sweat off his face and neck with a kitchen towel he swiped off the counter. "What's for lunch?"

"Sandwiches," Nan tells him, sitting down, "Yours is on the counter still."

Negan goes to the counter and then comes to the table with his plate, sitting down at an empty space at the opposite head. He lifts the bread and peeks under, before picking up the half and eating it.

"Thanks for the pepper on my mayo."

"Mhm." Nan eats a cucumber slice.

I look up from my sandwich, over to Nan and then briefly to him. I notice his bread isn't toasted like ours.

"Daddy, here," Birdie extends a cucumber slice my way, "I don't like them."

"You haven't tried them," Nan looks at her, "I want you to take one bite."

"I don't like them." Birdie drops the slice just off from her plate.

"I'll take 'em, if you're not getting eat 'em," Negan motions for the cucumbers as he chews, "I'm fucking famished."

"Negan," Nan looks at him, "Watch your mouth."

"Alright, sorry," Negan rolls his eyes, "Can I have the cucumbers?"

Nan looks over at Birdie. "Are you gonna try them?"

"No." Birdie shakes her head.

Nan sighs, picking up Birdie's plate and extending it towards Negan.

"Thank you." He grabs the heap of them and transfers them to his plate. He takes one up and crunches it in his mouth. "Mm!"

Birdie watches Negan eat more of the cucumber slices. "Mommy, I want my cutecumber back."

"You wanna try them?"

"Yeah, I want them back."

"Oh, well, here, you can have some of mine."

Birdie takes a cucumber slice and bites into it.

Nan looks over expectantly. "You like them?"

She nods her head, still chewing. "Yeah."

Nan smiles a little. Her smile wanes when our eyes meet and she goes back to her sandwich.

"So, your garden's in tit top shape." Negan says, smiling over at Birdie. His eyes blink to mine. "What else do you want me to do to earn my keep?"

"We've got some flowers and plants in the front yard," Nan says, "You can take care for those."

"Yes, ma'am," He agrees happily, "I see you got some plants around the house, you want me to see to those, too?"

"No, I can water those." Nan eats her sandwich.

He nods his head. His eyes trail back to me and smile smugly. "Anything you wanna give me to do, D?"

I drag my tongue along my teeth. "You loosened some of the steaks down at the barriers when you climbed over them, so you're gonna fix 'em first thing tomorrow."

He eats another cucumber. "Sounds good."

Nan looks over at me, but doesn't say anything.

"Daddy, I wanna swing."

"I'll push you after your nap."

"I don't wanna nap."

"Birdie eat your food." Nan tells her, smoothing a hand over her stomach as she eats, giving it a light pat.

"The baby's kicking you?" Birdie crunches her cucumber.

"Mhm," Nan smiles kindly to her as she swallows her sandwich, "Wanna feel?"

"I don't like the baby." Birdie mildly claims.

"So is that a no?"

Birdie thinks about it for a moment.

"Oh, time's up," Nan says, taking another bite, "They stopped."

"You're fat, Mommy."

"Birdie," I give her a look when she glances my way, "Say you're sorry."  
"Why?"

"Because that wasn't nice."

"I'm not sorry."

"You will be if you don't say you're sorry right now."

Birdie puts on her most stubborn pout. "No!"

I breathe out, putting down my napkin. As I do, an abrupt scuff against the floor. I look across the table and realize that while he seems to have not moved, it was Negan's chair we heard.

I stare, wondering why. Nan has also looked that way, curious. I then look back to Birdie after the pause. I hike my thumb behind me. "Go sit in timeout."

"I don't want to!"

"Do I need to count to three?" When she doesn't move, I start counting. "One...two…"

"You better get going." Nan softly advises her.

Just as I'm about to hit three, Birdie gets off her chair and disappears into the living room.

Nan leans a ways to see that she's actually sat on her timeout stool, before going back to eating. I peer across the table again, meeting eyes with him again, but not caring enough to not go back to my sandwich. I can see his head turn towards Nan and Nan's head slightly glance because of it.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's not me you owe a sorry to."

"I'm sorry, Mommy."

"It's alright, Pidge."

"I wanna eat my sandwich."

Nan pats the chair beside her. "Well, come on and eat."

Birdie pads back to the table, walking around the other side of the chair between it and Nan's chair. She lifts her hands up. "I wanna sit with you."

"It's kind of hard to do," Nan picks her up, "Can you even find my lap?"

Birdie pulls the other chair closer so that she can sit on her knees beside Nan. Nan puts her arm around her. "I don't want you to have a baby, Mommy."

"Well, I'm still gonna have a baby."

"When you gonna have it?"

"Oh, in about two months."

"A long time?"

"Mm, no."

Birdie looks over and smiles. "I'm three." She holds up her fingers.

"Three, huh?" Negan smiles. "Damn, that means you're practically all grown up and ready to move out."

"No!" Birdie cackles softly.

"You mean I don't get your room?"

"No, that's mine!"

"Shit, your folks are scamming me."

"Negan."

"Shoot." He corrects.

"Mommy, I don't wanna share my room with him."

"He's just joking."

I get up from the table abruptly, but not intentionally.

"Where you going?"

"To the garage," I tell Nan, "I've got some work I can do out there."

"You didn't finish your sandwich."

"I wasn't that hungry."

"Daddy, I wanna come, too."

"It's too hot out there for you," I say, "You stay with your mom."

"I don't like Mommy."

"Yes, you do." I kiss her head before I leave the kitchen.

"Dwight?"

I turn in the hall just before I go out.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm just not all that hungry."

Nan's eyes move across my face. "...Okay."

I turn back around and go out to the garage to smoke, as well as find something to do.

…

"You know something? Gardening's not too bad," I trim off some dead leaves, "I don't know why I ever fought Lu on it."

"Lucille wanted you to garden?"

I look up, just barely making her out through the open window. "Well, she asked me to water her plants when she'd go away."

Nan looks down at a book in her lap as she sits in an armchair by the window.

"Whatcha reading?"

"A baby book."

"What? Having one kid didn't teach you the ropes?"

"It's a book about at- home births," She clarifies teresely, "I borrowed it from Frankie."

"Frankie?" I look up again. "She had a kid?"

"She's going to," Nan replies, "She's due in October."

"Damn," I go back to my work, "Who's the father?"

"Keller."

"...Good lookin' guy," I say, "He was a hard worker."

"Mhm."

"Out of curiosity, what happened to the others?"

"Your other wives?"

"Yeah," I confirm as I pull some weeds, "I'd like to know what happened to 'em. They did keep company with me for a few years."

"You didn't care about them," Nan retorts mildy, but earnestly.

"And they didn't give a fuck about me," I chuckle, "But I'm still a nosy fucker."

"...I don't know that they'd like me telling you things about them."

"You already told me about Frankie."

"Yeah…"

"Oh, what am I gonna do?" I wipe sweat from my brow. "I've been locked up for three fucking years, I've got no knowledge of shit I couldn't make out from my cell window, or that Rick didn't come to brag about. I'm just trying to piece together how life got on without me."

Nan doesn't reply and after a while, I give up and pull more weeds in the hot sun.

"Amber's back with Mark."

I glance up at the window. "What was that?"

"Amber's back with Mark," Nan says again "They've been trying to have kids, too...but no luck."

"Those airheads are trying to breed?"

She turns her head with a disapproving look.

"...What happened to her mom?"

"She's been doing really well," Nan reports, "She teaches at The Kingdom."

"Huh."

"And Tonya works in building," She goes on, "And Danica is studying under Harlan, but I think she likes cutting hair more. And Hazel is always with Eugene, working on whatever he's working on."

"She working on him?"

"No," She huffs, "She just finds him interesting. Besides, I think he has feelings for someone else."

"Rosita."

"How do you know?

"Jude told me once about his little crush."

"Oh…you and her were close?"

"I helped her with her homework," I tell her, "Listened to her problems sometimes...answered questions no one else would."

"You think that was wise?"

"She's a smart kid," I pound the earth with my shovel, "Tough as shit, too. She could handle it."

"Hm."

"Yeah, that'll be what sucks ass the most once I get back," I exhale, "Aside from getting all my privileges taken away; I won't get to talk to her anymore."

"You weren't supposed to in the first place."

"Yeah, but she would sneak over with her homework," I say, "Now, they'll board up the window and throw away the key to the door."

She goes silent again and it feels heavier this time, but not because of her. It's because in the silence that I feel the weight of what I said. I can't help but think back to how I was before things got a little better and I don't like it.

I break my train of thought to water the small plants. "So, you thinking of having the baby in a kiddie pool?"

"No, but I thought it sounded interesting to read about," She says, "Frankie wants to give birth to her baby at home."

"Did you warn her it hurts?"

"We don't have epidurals anyway," She replies, "It's gonna hurt no matter where she's at. I'm sure the doctor will be there."

"If you could have an epidural, would you?"

"Yes," She answers without hesitation and it makes me chuckle, "I was in labor for twelve hours with Birdie. It was almost unbearable when it came time to push."

"If it hurts so damn bad, why have another?"

"I said almost," Nan sighs, "Almost unbearable. And that was only because I was under so much stress."

I wipe more sweat off my face. "Whatever happened to that gal Simon knocked up?"

"Marisol? She and Reed mov-"

"Reed?"

"Yeah, her and him got together a little after the twins turned a year old."

"Jesus, did everyone just start fucking each other after I left?"

"People started to rebuild," She tells me, "And you didn't _leave_."

"Yeah…" I take a ragged breath.

"Why do you ask?"

"If people are fucking?" I look at her.

"No," She dismisses, annoyed, "Why'd you ask about Marisol?"

"I don't know, just curious."

"...Does it still bother you?" She asks me. "The way he treated her?"

"Ah, I always knew Simon was a piece of shit."

"Then why did you make him your right hand man?"

"He could compel people to get shit done," I look at her through the window, "I almost killed him when I knew what he did to those men and boys, but…"

"But what?"

I shrug after a moment. "I thought I had him under control, or...could kill him if I didn't."

"You didn't,'' She says simply, "If you did, he wouldn't have killed the garbage people or conspired to kill you."

"Yeah, well, I made mistakes in judgement, didn't I?" I scoff. "He wasn't the only one conspiring."

Nan blinks, catching my drift. "I guess control was just an illusion for you then."

I scoff again, bitter as fuck.

She stares at me for a moment, before turning her head. "Hey, you. Did you wake up?"

"I have to go potty."

"Okay," Nan sets the book down and braces the arms of the chair, "Just give me a second to get up."

"Hey, I'm done with these plants," I call to her, "What else you want me to do?"

She looks at me and then at over at a clock in another room. "Come in after you put the tools away."

"You got it, boss." I say under my breath.

I pick up the little gardening tools and the watering can and carry them to the garage. My confindent feeling that Dwight will be in there, where he's been all fucking day, is checked when he turns out not to be in. I set the watering can down and drop the tools on a workstation.

As I walk towards the door to the house, I catch a glimpse of something way too familiar. Annoyingly familiar. It's that clunky fucking trunk that Nan used to pack around like she fucking owned it. Just to fucking clarfy; she didn't. It was in the quarters, so it belonged to me and I allowed whichever worker that was put there to use it to keep their shit stored. Why the fuck she thought she could just drag it around my fucking Sanctuary like she owned it is fucking beyond me. I hate that fucking trunk. I should have smashed the hell out of it that time she threw a vase at my head. It bugs the fuck out of me that she still fucking has it.

The door swings open. "Have you put the tools away?"

I look over at her standing expectantly in the doorway. "Yeah, I put the tools away."

Nan's eyes move from me. "That's not where they belong."

"Well, where the fuck do they belong?"

"Over there," She motions with a nod, "There's prongs on the wall they hang from."

I stick my tongue in my cheek. "Alright, I'll put 'em on the wall."

"Okay." She stands there with her hand propping the door open.

"What are you gonna watch me?"

She waits without an answer.

I sigh heavily, picking up the tools and walking them over to the side wall. I don't know why the hell I'm so pissy about it. Maybe thinking about the trunk got my panties in a twist. That, or what she said before that.

After I hang 'em all up, I look at her, raising my brows and smiling for approval.

She doesn't play into my smartass gesture. "You can come in."

"Thanks for the permission." I go to the door.

She turns just as I'm close enough to hold the door for myself.

"Mind if I shower?"

"Go ahead." She says without looking behind.

"Got anything I can fit into?"

She pauses, looking back.

"These clothes are smelling a little ripe."

She considers it for a moment. "I'll see what I can find."

I step into the bathroom across the hall. I pull off my sweaty, dirty clothes and get in the shower. I knock over some bath toys that I have to gather up, which isn't a chore, except I fucking ache all over from being worked like a mule all fucking day. I know, it's a fuck ton better than being locked up somewhere and they're giving me an opporutnity to work while I'm here, which is more than Rick allowed after three years. Doesn't mean I can't complain a little. Hell, I don't know if its an opportunity for me, or a chance for them to exploit free labor out of me, but I won't get into it with them, because it'll backfire in my face real fucking quick.

The water comes out cold which I don't mind and transitions into a nice hot flow. Man, it feels good to have hot water on my skin. The water back at Alexandria is never this fucking hot.I cup my hands and drink from it until my thrist is quenched.

I pick up the bar of soap and wash myself vigorously. I wonder how long I can stand in here until the water turns cold again.

I look around for shampoo, but don't see any. I know they gotta wash Birdie's hair with something. After searching for a hot minute, I guess they must have transferred the shampoo to their bathroom, so I use the soap. My head's shaved, so I guess it'll be fine.

I finally decide to get out when the hot water starts to fade. I grab the towel and wrap it around my waist before pulling back the curtain. I knock over the bath toys again and pick 'em up.

I wipe the steam from the mirror, trying to get a look at myself before it casts over again. It's the first shower that I've had since I left Alexandria. The river baths don't count; I was only washing my face and my pits then.

I didn't expect to look any different than the last time I saw my reflection, but I can't help but smile when my eyes meet themselves in the mirror. Not about how I look, despite having a face you could sit on. It's about recognizing where I'm at and who I'm with. My smiles waned as easily as it waxed; for the same reason.

"Negan?" There's a light knock at the door.

I look at it. "What?"

"I heard the water turn off," Nan says outside the door, "I found you some clothes that might fit."

I open the door to her holding a stack of folded clothes. Our eyes meet immediately, but her eyes blink downward.

"That's Birdie's towel."

"It was the only one in here," I tell her, smirking, "I can hand it to you, if you'd prefer I don't use it."

She makes eye contact with me and extends the clothes to me. "Here. These didn't fit Dwight, but they might fit you."

"Hope there's some underwear tucked in somewhere," I take them from her, "'Cause the pair I've been wearing probably smell like sweaty balls."

Nan sighs through her nose. "Just get dressed."

"Mommy!"

She quickly turns down the hall. "I'm coming!"

The sound of smaller footsteps stop abruptly.

"Let's go back to watching our movie, okay?"

I shut the door and inspect the clothes I was given. A pair of pants that look like they'll fit, a plain gray shirt, and an over shirt. There is in fact also a pair of undies that I have to assume are a pair of D's. It's a little weird, I'll admit, but I bet it'll be more weird for him than it is for me, which tickles me. Gotta love the smell of fresh clothes and undies.

I leave the bathroom and follow the sound to the living room. Nan and Birdie are there and the same movie that was playing yesterday is playing again. Birdie watches attentively on the floor, while Nan sits on the couch, looking like she's trying to get her eyes open.

I clear my throat to get her attention. "May I have some water?"

Her brows gather a little over her tired eyes. "Yes."

I grin a little when she doesn't make the effort to move. "Oh, no, don't you get up now. I'll get it myself."

She doesn't reply, probably too tired to.

I bring the glass of water I got for myself into the living room to sit. The armchair's got some toys on it, so I clear 'em off with one swipe.

"Hey!" Birdie's brows furrow angrily. She gets up from the floor and marches over. "You can't do that!"

"Why the…" My eyes briefly look to Nan, "Why not?"

"Because!" She makes this cute little scowl.

"Well, sor-ry, jeez," I reach down to pick up the nearest block, "I'll pick 'em up and put them on this table, how about that?"

I set the horse-shaped block on the coffee table as I sit down in the arm chair. Birdie pushes the block off the table immediately.

"No!"

"Birdie." Nan scolds.

"Move!" Birdie fiercely insists.

"Birdie, be nice."

"Mommy, make him move."

"No, he can sit there, Bird," Nan tells her, "You need to put your toys away."

Birdie doesn't budge or quit her scowling at me.

"Right now," Nan says more sternly, "Come on, I'll help you."

"No!" She pouts, before padding off out of the room.

I watch over my shoulder as she runs down the hall. "Fiery little thing."

"Stubborn's more like it." Nan scoots herself across the couch. She attempts to reach the blocks on the floor from where she's sitting.

"I got it," I lean down and pick them up, "I didn't piss her off too bad, did I?"

"No, she'll be back," Nan sighs, getting into a little basket tucked within the side table, "She just likes to be a little dramatic sometimes."

I smirk a little. "Were you dramatic like that when you were her age?"

Nan huffs, a little humored as she starts to knit. Her brows sharpen somewhat more as she stares down, fiddling with the yarn and needle. "No, but my mom always said I was...I hated it when she'd say that." Her eyes faintly glance up towards me, bothered. "I guess, I shouldn't pass it on."

I shrug my shoulders. "You didn't mean anything by it."

Nan begins what looks like knitting, reserved.

I look at my clasped hands. "Hell, don't bum yourself out over it; it's way nicer than anything my mom would've called me."

She breathes through her nose, concentrating on her hand work.

I take a peek from where I'm sitting into the kitchen and then back down the hall. "Where's your other half at? Haven't seen him in a hot minute."

"He's around I'm sure."

"You're sure?" I look at her. "What as in you're not sure, but you think he's here?"

"He's here," She gives me a quick look, "He's just probably working on something outside."

"He wasn't out in the garage."

I see her nostrils flare as she breathes out, but she remains aloof as she knits. I peer at her hands. "Whatcha knittin'?"

"Booties," She says, "For the baby."

"Your baby will be born in summer, you sure a pair of wool booties is the way to go?"

"It's a thinner yarn," She tells me, "More breathable. Besides, its more or less just something you do when you have a baby."

"Huh," I glance back down at the cream-coloured yarn, "You still have Birdie's?"

"Of course, I do," She looks over, a little insulted, "I have them tucked away. Except for the blanket, because Birdie still uses it."

I nod my head, glancing over at the television. "You ever watch anything else?"

"When she goes to bed."

I nod again, looking back at my hands. The ringing in my ears starts out of the blue and so I close my eyes to try to bide through it. I pinch between my eyes when it worsens.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah…" I exhale through the noise. "It's just my head."

"It still hurts?"

"Yeah, tinnitus," I open my eyes to look at her, "The doctor said I might have it for the rest of my days."

Her brows appear concerned, before she glances back down. "Has it affected your memory?"

"Nah," I shake my aching head, "I thought so at first, but my mind's a steel trap."

"...You said a while back you couldn't remember," her eyes pick up and meet mine, "Certain things."

My eyes scan hers. "You mean…" I tilt my towards the hall and she nods. I swallow, again looking at my hands. "I don't remember what she looked like."

She stares.

"But then again I only had five days with her," I add with a sigh, "And a picture, which isn't a memory. At least not my own."

Nan nods silently, looking down.

"Guess that's my own fault, right?"

Her eyes peer up and her brows furrow slightly.

"Mommy!" Birdie comes bolting into the living room. She crashes herself up onto the couch. "Mommy, where's Daddy?"

"I don't know, I think he's working," Nan tells her, "Why?"

"I want him to read." She shows her mother a small book in her hand.

"Oh, well, you'll have to ask him when he's done working."

"I want him to read this." Birdie quietly pouts.

"I can read it, if you want me to." She offers, setting aside the knitting.

"Mm, let me think about it," Birdie puts her finger to her chin, kind of smart alecky, "Okay."

"Okay." Nan takes the book from her and opens it up.

Birdie settles on the couch close to Nan, leaning her head on Nan's arm.

"If you give a pig a pancake, she'll want syrup to go with it." Nan begins to read with a light, gentle voice.

Birdie looks at the pictures, calmly focused. She slowly raises her leg and her socked foot finds its way to Nan's round belly, where it then caresses the bump.

"You'll give her some of your favorite maple syrup," Nan reads on, "She'll probably get all sticky."

The front door opens behind me and Nan's eyes glance over before Dwight enters the room. When he does, she looks at him, before going back to the book, but not without a subtle expression that she can't hide.

"So, she'll want to take a bath…"

"Daddy, come sit." Birdie pats the seat next to her.

"In a minute." He goes down the hall.

Birdie's eyes fall on me and she immediately scowls and snottily looks away, turning her nose up. What a pistol. She gets the scowl from me.

…

The toilet flushes behind me and fills my ears with the rushing _whoosh!_

"Done?"

"Yeah," Birdie tells me, "You can look now."

I turn around to her carefully getting off the toilet on her own. "Alright, wash your hands and brush your teeth."

Birdie gets up on her step stool and waits for me to turn the water on. "Mommy?"

"Mm?"

"I don't want to share my room with Negan."

I look at her reflection in the mirror. "You don't?"

"No." She washes her hands.

"Well, you don't have to," I blandly sigh, "Besides, you're not even sleeping in there anyway...and neither is Negan."

"I wanna sleep in my room."

"Not right now, baby."

"Why?"

"Because your dad and I want you to sleep here."

"Why?"

"Because you snore and we don't you to wake up Negan." I smile when she cackles.

"I don't snore!" She points at my reflection. "You snore!"

"You would, too, if you had twenty extra pounds laying on top of you," I shut the faucet off, "Alright, let's go lie down."

"Mommy, when's Negan leaving?"

"Soon," I tell her as I tuck her in on my side of the bed, "And Birdie, you can't be rude to people we have over, just because you don't want them to stay with us."

I realize that sounds strange, given the certain guest, but I suppose I can't justly make an exception.

"But I like to."

"Well, it's not nice," I brush her hair out her eyes, "You need to practice being kinder, okay?"

"Mm, no, I don't want to."

"Oh, please, won't you?" I plead in a soft, playful voice. "For me?"

"No."

"Oh, you put daggers in my heart, kid." I peck her forehead. "Are you gonna be a nice big sister when the baby comes?"

"No."

I exhale through my nose. "I think you will once you see that having a baby around isn't so bad."

She smiles lightly. "No."

Her repetition is soft, which means she's growing more and more tired. I lean down and kiss her forehead again. I then look at her for a good, long moment. Her eyes have a warm light in them when she smiles, even when she's sleepy. It's a familiar brightness, a friendliness.

"Read, Mommy."

I breath in, looking off as I reach for the book. "Alright, I'll read."

She falls asleep about halfway through, but I always finish the story to the end. I carefully get up and change into my pajamas, which right now is a light night gown that would normally end a little past the knees, but ends two inches above them since my belly takes up room. I'm glad it fits that way because I was beginning to feel matronly in it, despite being lower cut and with thin straps.

Dwight hasn't come back from the perimeter check yet, which he began about twenty minutes ago. I put on some socks and one of his flannels to take Birdie's book back to her room and to maybe get a glass of water.

I see the blue glow of the television coming from the living room as I go into place the book back on the book rack. The noise, which is faint, becomes somewhat more audible as I'm on the edge of the room. I find Negan laying on the couch with his arm draped behind him and his head turned towards _It Happened One Night._

He notices me shortly, casually blinking his eyes to me. "Boy, don't you look lovely?"

I scoff, padding to the kitchen.

"What? I meant it."

"I look like I'm wearing a tablecloth." I murmur as I get some water. I pause in the archway, looking at him in the living room in between. "Comfortable?"

"No, your fucking couch isn't made for sleeping on," He smirks a little, light bounces off his face, "But it beats the cell, so I'll shut up."

The front door opens, not suddenly, although it still startles me. Dwight enters the kitchen, prompting me to turn around. He goes to the sink, flipping on the water and washing his hands.

I stand there, holding my glass to me as I observe. "How was it?"

He turns his head, apparently not knowing that I was there. "It was fine," He scrubs his hands, "You're still up?"

"I was waiting for you to come home."

"Oh…" He shuts off the sink and dries his hands, "Well, I'm home."

"You going to bed?"

"Yeah, I'm coming."

I nod my head, turning to see Negan staring. I don't know why it bothers me, it's not rude or mocking. It's almost a question, as in could we keep our voices down?

I eye Dwight going down the hall and follow without another word to Negan. He waits for me by the door, so he can close it and lock it. After that, he breezes past me to the bathroom, where more running water hits my ears. I go in, leaning my back against the wall.

"What's the matter?" He mumbles as he brushes his teeth.

I shake my head. "Nothing."

Dwight bends to spit and rinse and then unbends. "I know you better than that."

I puzzle my brows.

"We've been together for three years, you think I can't tell when something's up?" His reflected eyes look at me, almost scoldingly.

My eyes flicker downward at nothing as my mind searches for something to say. "I'm just...I'm trying to make the best of a bad situation."

He looks me over and nods subtly.

"But I guess I'm not doing a good job at it, if I still feel at fault for all this."

"At fault?" He shifts around. "How is this your fault?"

I meet his eyes with my contrite pair, near the point of tears. "He knew where to find us because of me."

The bewilderment on Dwight's brows lets up with understanding.

I start to shake my head. "D, I...I don't even remember telling him we lived by the river. It must have slipped out that day we brought Rick back and I went to see him, I…" I look at him. "I would have never told him where we lived on purpose. I never wanted this to happen, for him to be so close to her, I-"

"It's okay." He says as my tears begin to blur his image.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

Dwight licks his lips as he sighs through his nose. "That river leads to a lot of places. He could have wound up in West Virginia, or Maryland."

"But he didn't," I say, regretfully, "He wound up here. He found us."

"By sheer luck," He shrugs, "You might have accidentally told him we lived near a river, but there's no way he knew exactly where to follow the river. It was just luck." His eyes trail off. "Bad luck on our end."

"...Are you mad at me?"

"No," He shakes his head, "I'm not. It is what it is. He'll be back in his cell before we know it."

I smile, slightly forced as I wipe the tears away.

"Don't cry, honey, it's okay," He touches my arm, "Really. I'm not mad."

I put my arms around him and shut my eyes to his warm embrace. He kisses the top of my head and then my lips when I look up. I stare up at him, feeling a small inclination. Apparently, he feels the same thing, because his hand slides under the flannel I'm wearing to gently brush it off my shoulders.

We kiss again, passionately. He removes the other side and I let the flannel drop to the ground as our lips remain locked. I feel my head touch the wall, before we step in unison to trade sides. Dwight helps me up on the counter, touching my warm legs under my gown. I put my arms around him, feeling the desire in each kiss.

But, something gets swept in as I amorously inhale through my nose. A faint, but ashy odor that I think I recognize. I open my eyes right as I'm sure I know the smell. I begin to pull myself from the romantic tethering.

"What's wrong?"

I look at Dwight with furrowed brows. "I smell smoke."

His brows also furrow. "I don't smell anything."

"No, not like fire, like cigarette smoke, D," My eyes scan his face, "Have you been smoking?"

He looks at me, lips parting in what I can only assume is about to be an explanation.

I scoff, pissed. "I thought you quit."

"I did."

"Well, then why do I smell cigarettes?" I question. "And don't tell me it's your clothes, because I got rid of the smell of long ago."

He scratches his head. "I, uh, found some cigarettes the other day when I went into Barton."

I can't help scoff again. "What so you took them and started smoking again? You haven't smoked in months, D, why would you start up again?"

"Look, I'll stop as soon as I-"

"As soon as you what?" I ask sternly. "As soon as you finish them? I've heard that one before; you save the ones you put out to make them last longer."

"Nan, I-"

"I'm pregnant, Dwight," I nearly shout, "I can't breathe that in and I don't want Birdie to, either."

"Honey, relax," He tells me, which only makes me angry, " I'll stop, okay?"

"You keep telling me that, but here I am smelling cigarettes again," I go to roll my eyes, but I suddenly get a thought, "Wait, is that where you've been all day?"

"I was out working," He replies, "I went down to the barrier to see the damage."

"And so you could smoke," I hop off the counter, "That's why you were out in the garage most of the day."

"I was getting things prepared, so we could fix the barrier tomorrow."

"How many packs?"

He follows me to the bedroom. "What?"

"How many packs did you find?" I cross my arms. "I want to know."

Dwight's stares, before he looks off.

"Don't lie to me."

His eyes fix back on mine, accused. "I wasn't gonna lie to you."

"You know, I know you pretty well myself and I can't tell when you're about to lie."

Dwight scoffs. "I'll get rid of them."

I huff, not convinced.

"I don't know what else you want to say," He walks to the dresser, "I'll get rid of them."

I stare at the bed, making sure Birdie's undisturbed. "Why didn't you just leave them in Barton to begin with?"

"Because I wanted to smoke them," He says, "There. Happy? I didn't lie to you."

"Why did you want to smoke them?" I rudely ask.

"Because I need to take the edge off."

I look over at him. "The edge off?"

"Yeah," He looks back at me, "Given the shit that's happened, I don't think it's farfetched to say I'm a little on edge right now."

"You said-"

"I know what I said, but it doesn't stop me from being stressed out about Negan being here, sleeping under the same roof as us and our daughter."

I bring my lips to a close, feeling blame again. "You're upset that I suggested he work until he goes back to Alexandria."

"If it were up to me, he'd be tied up in the garage until he goes back," Dwight says, "I don't trust him and I don't know why you do."

"I don't," I shrug, ruffled, "But I know him well enough to know he wouldn't do anything stupid."

Dwight glances down into his drawer. "Yeah, well enough to remember how to make his sandwiches."

That hits me unexpectedly. I stare in blindisided hurt.

Dwight pauses before looking my way. "Nan, I-"

"I'm going to bed." I swiftly say, turning toward the bed.

"Nan, I didn't...I didn't mean-"

"Goodnight."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**


	29. Chapter 29

The rooster crows a little after dawn. I stare up at the ceiling and watch the sunlight chase off the shadows. I used to do the same with the ceiling down in my cell, except this ceiling I want to remember. Each morning I've woken up here, I've had to become reacquainted with this ceiling, confused that it's not like the ceiling I spent almost four years under. And then I remind myself where I am and then it becomes more about trying to take a mental picture of this new ceiling.

Like all the other days I've woken up here, I eventually close my eyes again. I drift in and out of consciousness, never fully going back to sleep, listening for the first sign that my cautiously benevolent hosts are up and at 'em.

I think I can hear some stirring from the back of the house about an hour after I woke up, but the heaviness of the tread means it's probably Dwight, so I don't make any effort to arise just yet. I'll get up once I hear the coffee getting made. It's sort of rude that I have to ask every time before I can get a cup, but far be it from me to tell someone how to be a more gracious host. Lucille liked having people over, but hated it, too, because having people over meant they'd have to meet me and/or interact with me. I don't know why she had an anxious needle in her ass every time she'd invite people over; I am actually a very likable guy. I don't know why I have to keep saying it. Yeah, alright, I get it now, but before all this shit happened, I was a decent guy. Granted, my wife was my only friend and I was both a shitty friend and husband to her, but I still had decent aspirations of being a good friend/husband.

A small crash pulls me out of the little snooze I hadn't realized I fell into while waiting. I open my eyes and look to the clock on the wall across from me for the time. Shit, is it really seven-thirty? Something slams on the coffee table beside the couch, so I turn my head.

Birdie's eyes meet mine. Her wooden animal blocks have all fallen over except for the one in her hand. We stare at each other like this for a few seconds.

"Morning, little lady."

"I'm not little." She retorts.

"You sure? Because you stand about three feet, which is pretty damn little in my books."

Her eyebrows gather before she assertively aruges; "No, I'm not damn little!"

I chuckle at her spitfire response. "Alright, if you say so."

I groan a little as I sit up. This fucking couch. My eyes look past her to the empty kitchen. I can smell the coffee I'd been waiting for. Her and I are the only ones in the living room and I don't hear anyone else moving about.

"Say, where's your mom?"

"Throwing up," Birdie answers, casually setting her blocks on their feet, "She said find Daddy, but I'm sitting here."

"Huh," I take another look around, "And where is your...mother's husband?"

"Feeding the chickens."

"Why aren't you out there with him?" I ask her. "I thought you liked feeding the chickens."

"It's raining," She says, "I don't know where my rain boots went. I like to splash with them."

I look out the slider door and see Dwight out by the coop. It's cats and dogs out there.

"Here."

I look back to Birdie offering me a block. "Why, thank you."

"You can't keep it," She tells me, "But you can play with it."

"Alright, sounds like a deal." I inspect the smooth wooden block shaped like a fawn with little white specs. "Where'd you get this?"

"My daddy made it for me," Birdie tells me, "Put that one there."

I set the block down on the table where she pointed. "There."

She collides the block in her hand with the deer block and all the others. "RAWR!"

I take a glimpse over the edge at the crashed over blocks.

"Get 'em, please."

"You want me to pick 'em up?" I point to myself incredulously.

"Yeah," She nods her head, "Please?"

I sigh as I reach down to get the blocks. "You know, if I recall right, you chewed my ass out over knocking these same blocks over just yesterday."

"We're playing a game," Birdie says, "And I'm the tiger!"

"Oh, so it's only okay when you say so?" I grin. "We can knock shit over on your terms, huh?"

"Yeah."

I snicker at her. "Sounds good."

We set up the animals on the table so she can knock them all over again.

"Do you know what the dog says?"

"Damn skippy, I do," I say to her, "Do you?"

She growls low. "Bark! Bark!"

I smile, humored. "That was pretty damn good."

"Dog barks like that."

"Yeah, dogs bark just like that."

"Daryl lets me pet 'im because he's a good boy."

I glance up, confused for a moment. "Oh! You mean Daryl's dog."

"Yeah, Dog's a good dog."

I nod my head. "Does Daryl come to your house sometimes?"

"Um, yeah."

"How much does he visit?"

"I don't know." She picks up another block. Her face brightens as she looks up at me. "I know what a snake says."

I smile. "Oh, yeah? What's a snake say?"

"Ssssss!" She hisses and it's the cutest thing.

I chuckle heartily, looking at her other blocks. I pick one up. "What's the cat say?" I hand it to her.

She takes the block. "Meow!"

"What about...a horse?"

"Nehehehe!"

I bust up laughing. "My goodness! That was something."

"Yeah, I'm good at animals."

"I'll say," I reply, "You are a goddamn champ."

"'Nother one."

"Okay, let's see…"

The door to the kitchen flies open from the wind and the rain. Both Birdie and I look over, but it's me Dwight locks eyes with.

"Birdie, come in here." He calls, shutting the door and taking the basket of eggs to the sink.

"I'm playing!"

"Now." Dwight asserts, shrugging off his jacket.

Birdie quietly hmphs before getting up and going into the kitchen. "I wanna play, Daddy."

"You can play here." He turns on the sink.

"I wanna play in there," She points to the living room, "We're playing a game."

"Well, you can play the game in here."

"I don't want to."

"Go get your blocks."

Birdie marches into the living room with a pissy look on her face. She gathers up as many of the blocks as she can hold and storms back into the kitchen. She then comes back on a second warpath to get the rest.

"Are you mad?" She asks her mother's husband.

"No, I'm not mad."

"Am I being a brat?"

"I don't know," Dwight glances her way as he turns on the stove, "Are you?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" He sounds humored by her. "You are being a brat?"

"Yeah," She confirms lightly, "I like being a brat."

"Well, at least you admit it."

Dwight goes to the stove and puts a pan on one of the burners, which he then turns on. "You want scrambled eggs or an omelet?"

"Scrambled."

"You got it."

"Come on," She encourages me after remembering my existence in the living room, "We're playing in here."

"How about later?" I suggest, watching Dwight stalk around the kitchen.

"No, now!"

I exhale, before I start to get up.

"Mommy!"

I turn to notice Nan padding into the living room with a mug in her hand. She looks pale and drained except for the light perspiration on her face. A real déjà vu sight.

"Hey, Bird." She greets with a little less energy than her daughter.

Birdie comes running to her, crashing into her mom's belly in a best attempt to embrace her. "G'morning."

"Morning." Nan pets her bedhead.

"Are you better?"

"I am," She smiles, "I'm feeling much better. Thanks for asking."

"We're playing a game, Mommy."

"You and Daddy?"

"Negan." Birdie points to me, promoting Nan to look over.

Her smile wanes. "Oh. What game are you playing?"

"Um, I'm the tiger."

"Oh...okay."

"We have to play in there, because Daddy said so."

"Oh, well, it's okay to play in here now, if you want to."

"Okay!" Birdie runs into the kitchen as Nan takes a seat in the arm chair. "Daddy, Mommy said I can play in there!"

Dwight only looks at her and smiles slightly in acknowledgement, though its obvious that he's ass-chapped about it.

I look at Nan resting her cheek unto her hand. "You look great."

"Thanks." She scoffs under her breath, watching as Birdie brings her blocks back into the living room. Her eyes look at the slider door. "It's raining."

"Yep."

"Mommy, here, you take this one."

"Oh, thank you." Nan takes the giraffe with a nice smile.

"Play, Mom."

"How do I play?"

"Um, put it here."

Nan scoots to the edge of her seat and places the giraffe on the table.

"Hurry." Birdie tells me.

"Give me a second, will ya?"

"No."

I chuckle. "Calm your pigtails, bossy boots."

"I don't have pigtails," She snaps, "This is a bun!"

"Jeez, sorry." I set up all the animal blocks in a row. "Alright, let her rip."

She growls and roars before she sweeps the tiger across all the others, knocking most to the floor.

"Again."

"Okay, we'll do it again."

"Here, Mommy."

"I don't want to be the horse," Nan pretends to pout, "I wanna be something else."

"Um...the dog?"

"No," Nan shakes her head, "Can I be the tiger?"

"I'm the tiger, Mommy."

"Can't I have a turn as the tiger?"

Birdie holds the block in both hands. "I wanna be the tiger."

"Oh, you can't share?"

"No."

"Oh," Nan sighs deeply, "Okay. I just really wanted to be the tiger."

"You can be the snake."

Birdie picks up the snake, which isn't actually a block but one of those wooden snakes that you can wiggle. It's bigger than the blocks and would be out of place if it weren't in the shape of an animal.

"Here."

"Thanks." Nan accepts it, sulking.

Birdie stands there in front of her mom, staring at her.

"Where should I put the snake?"

Birdie continues to stand there quietly.

Nan looks to her when she doesn't respond. "What's the matter?"

Birdie stays where she is for a few more moments, before turning around and walking back to her spot. "Put it, um….right there."

Nan twists her mouth and snaps her fingers like she almost had her. "Alright."

As soon as the blocks are set up, Birdie crashes into them again with a roar. She laughs with just as much heart. It makes me smile so much I think I could cry.

"Who should I be this time?" Nan asks, touching her round belly in the same way she has before.

"Is the baby done sleeping?"

Nan smiles at our daughter. "Yeah, I think they heard you laughing and it made them happy."

Birdie's response is to look at Nan's belly with a look on her face that's curious but hard to read exactly.

"You want eggs?" Dwight interrupts, addressing Nan.

"No, please don't cook them today," She curtly replies, not looking over, "My stomach's really sensitive this morning."

"...I just made Birdie a scrambled egg."

"I know and I'm trying really hard not to throw up over the smell."

My eyes move to Dwight for his response. He stares at her for a moment, before exhaling quietly, but frustratingly through his nose.

"Okay, what do you want?"

"I'll just have oatmeal, thanks."

He nods even though she's not paying mind. His eyes blink to me and boy, oh, boy do they convey some serious hostility.

"I'll take some of that coffee, if it's still hot." I place my order.

He huffs, going back to the kitchen to cook breakfast and likely ignore me.

"Come play, Daddy."

"Later, baby."

Birdie sticks her tongue out at him while his back is turned. She smiles when I snicker, but immediately grows more timid when Nan clears her throat.

Nan's arched brow lightly scolds her and then me for encouraging her, before she reaches for a cup of mint tea.

"Here, Mom." Birdie extends the tiger block to Nan.

She appears surprised, setting the cup down. "You want me to be the tiger?"

"Yeah." Birdie shrugs, as if it's no big deal.

Nan leans over and takes the block. "Thank you. Good job for sharing."

Birdie looks over at her, then gets up and walks over. "Give it back!"

"I thought you were sharing with me."

"Nope, I want it back," Birdie puts her hand out, "Now, please."

"Okay, but it's not very nice to be a bad sharer."

"You can't play no more."

"Birdie, be nice."

"No, you be nice."

"Oh, come on, let her join."

Birdie looks at me. "No."

"What if I say please?"

"No!"

"Man, you are being a stubborn little thing over blocks."

She stares, willful.

"Alright, then, I won't play anymore."

"Yes, you're still playing."

"Nope, I'm not gonna play, if you're gonna be rude about it."

Birdie scrunches her nose. "Fine, I'll play by myself!"

"Okay, good."

"Stop talking!"

I zip my lip and sit back with a smile on my face. Birdie glares at me, before she turns her back to us and plays by herself on the floor.

"Well, now I know not to acknowledge her sharing." Nan sighs to herself as she reclines. She then looks over at me and gives a faint smile. Wait, was she talking to me?

"Birdie, come eat."

…

It's been pouring down all day. Dwight's plans to fix the damage Negan did to the barrier have been postponed until it stops. I think he figured it would by the afternoon, but it hasn't and so now he's stuck in the house with nothing to do but fight the urge to go to the garage and smoke. I've kept myself busy baking an apple pie and knitting my baby some booties that might not seem so useless, if it keeps raining like this.

Birdie lost the attitude and has been really nice, most likely out of boredom of being stuck inside. She's been talking more and more to Negan, allowing him to watch her color and then offering him a crayon after some time. I know it's driving Dwight up the wall and it's made me a little apprehensive, too, I'll admit, but what can we do? Tell her she can't speak or be kind to my "friend," right after I told her she has to be more polite to guests? I'm trying to teach her to be more open to having more than just the three of us around, especially since in two and a half months there will be a fourth, permanent person living here. And besides, it's not as if Dwight or I aren't in the room with them.

"Mommy, I wanna watch the movie."

I look up from my knitting. "Okay."

I set my work aside and prepare to hoist myself out of the sinkhole I've made in the armchair.

"I got it." Negan gets up from the couch.

"Oh," I settle back down, "Uh, sure."

"But there has to be something other than _The Sound of Music_ ," Negan pauses right at the television, "I mean, there has to be something else the kid can watch."

"There isn't."

Negan exhales. "You really think she'd be scarred for life if she watched….I don't know, _Jaws_?"

I arch my brow and it makes him smirk.

"Kidding, but still; let's watch something else."

"I wanna watch Maria." Birdie chimes in.

"Don't you get tired of her and those dweeby kids?"

"No," Birdie shakes her head, "She's pretty like Mommy's pretty."

Negan smiles at her. "You don't get tired of seeing your mom's face?"

"No." Birdie says. "She's very pretty."

"Yeah, that's a fair description."

I glance up at him.

"I guess we don't ever get tired of pretty gals, huh?"

"Yeah."

Negan's eyes very briefly look over, before he moves. "Alright, we won't say auf wiedersehen to the von Trapps for now."

I look back down at my knitting. From the corner of my eye, I can see Dwight, so I turn my head, making eye contact with him. But not for long. I set my knitting back into the basket I keep in it and force myself up out of the armchair.

"Where you going, Mommy?"

I walk to the bathroom in our bedroom to go pee, despite Birdie's bathroom being closer. I sigh aloud as the stream hits the water. No one ever told me that peeing would be the best feeling in the world when you're pregnant.

As I leave the bathroom, I notice the bed hasn't been made yet. Dwight usually makes it, since I can never see the point of making a bed that really only we are going to see. But, to stall going back out there, I decide to make the bed myself.

I don't tuck anything in really. I just drape the bed sheet and quilt over the bed, smoothing it all out to look nice. I fluff our pillows and neatly space them apart. I fold and then spread the throw at the foot of our bed and drop Birdie's blanket on top.

It's been really hard having her sleep in our bed. I've been tossing and turning a few times each night to get comfortable and it's difficult to do when I'm sandwiched between my husband and daughter, the latter of whom would take up the whole bed if she could. I know Dwight's being cautious with Negan being here, which I understand, but my back is killing me.

"Hey."

I look over as he comes in. I almost ask if his ears were burning. "Where's Birdie?"

"In the bathroom." He motions towards the hall. "You've been back here awhile, I just came to check on you."

"I'm managing."

Dwight's eyes move to the bed. "You didn't tuck in the sides."

"I know." I fix my hair in the small mirror on our dresser. I then go to make my exit.

"Wait."

I pause with my back to him. "What?"

"Can we talk for a minute?"

"About?"

"About last night."

I peer down the hall. "Birdie's gonna call you soon."

"Then we'll be quick."

"Okay, fine," I turn towards him, "Let's talk about how you hide cigarettes. Or, how about that comment you made about the sandwich?"

"Nan, I'm-"

"Why would you say that?" I fiercely ask in a low breath.

"I don't know," He says, "I-"

"What was it you wanted me to say, huh?" I cross my arms. "That I made him a sandwich after we-"

The toilet flushes down the hall and I choose to let it's timing keep me from saying what we both know I was going to say.

"Daddy!" Birdie calls from inside.

"I'll go." I tell him, starting to head out of the bedroom and then coming back. "You know, Dwight, what you said….it was mean. And it hurt."

With that said, I leave. I knock lightly on the slightly open bathroom door.

"You done?"

"Yeah."

I open the door. "Why are you naked?"

"I wanna take a bath."

"You can take one tonight before bed."

"And wash my hair?"

"No, I washed your hair yesterday."

"It's dirty."

"No, it's not," I turn on the warm water on the sink, "Now, get dressed and come wash your hands."

Dwight passes in the hall as Birdie steps up on her stool.

I breathe, looking at myself in the mirror. I don't like being mad at him, but what he said really did sting me and I don't feel like it's unjustified to be angry about it.

"All clean!"

Birdie hops down and exits, wiping her hands down her shirt. I follow back into the living room where Negan sits alone. My eyes naturally assume Dwight's in the kitchen, but from what I can see of the room from here, the kitchen's vacant.

"He stepped outside."

I blink, looking back to our visitor.

He holds up a small knife. It's the knife Dwight uses to whittle with. "He left it on the table; I didn't want the kid to grab it."

I take note of Birdie sitting on her knees at the table, coloring. "Will you hand it to me?"

"Will you take it from me, if I won't?"

I meet his casual, yet daunting eyes.

" _Can_ you take it from me?" He lifts up the knife, blade forward, as if curiously egging me to try.

I look down at the knife in his hands.

"Mommy, look!" Birdie holds up her drawing.

I immediately smile at her, looking away from the knife and the man wielding it. "Oh, wow. That's amazing."

"It's a snake." She goes back to drawing with a proud smile on her face.

I direct my attention back to Negan whose eyes lost concentration as well. When he focuses again, he flips the knife over so that it's handle out. I walk over and take it from him.

"Asshole." I say under my breath.

"Me, or the guy who left a knife on the coffee table with a toddler around?"

I pad into the kitchen to the windows. It's raining a little less at the moment, which is why he probably chanced it to go out. I go to the door and peer out the small panes when I can't find him from the window above the sink.

I make him out under the tree where Birdie's swing's at. A movement of his hand and a plume of smoke angers me. I'm tempted to open the door, or maybe lock it and every other door, so he can sit out there in the rain and smoke all he wants. Am I mad enough to do that?

"Mommy, I'm thirsty." Birdie tugs on my dress.

I look down. "You are?"

"Yeah."

I take my hand off the lock. "Okay, let me get you some water."

We both go back to the living room after I get her water. I set the knife down on the end table between the couch and armchair, before sitting down.

"Jesus, can these people go two fuckin' seconds without bursting into song?"

"It's a musical."

"Yeah, but Christ," Negan complains, eyes on the screen, "If I didn't already know, I'd never figure out the damn plot."

I roll my eyes, leaning back in the chair.

"You said bad words." Birdie scolds. Oh, shit; she's right.

"They slipped out."

I give him a dry brow.

He grins, so I look away towards the slider door.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine." I reply, annoyed. I hate being asked that. Even more so pregnant.

"I heard you two arguing last night."

I look back at him.

"I mean, I didn't hear about what exactly, but I can guess."

"Mind your own business." I push myself up again. "Birdie, what do you want for lunch?"

"Noodles."

"Mac'n'cheese it is."

I start the water in a pan to boil. I glance over at the panes on the door, taking a second look. When I don't see Dwight by the tree, my eyes move to the window above the sink.

The sound of the truck's engine firing up draws my attention to the front of the house, where my feet carry me. I open up the front door, stepping out just enough to see the truck drive off down the road.

…

I tap my finger on the steering wheel as I replay in my head the argument we had last night and what Nan said just before I left. The windshield wipers are old and practically useless against the rain. If it weren't a light rain, I might not be able to see where I'm driving. I keep tapping my finger on the wheel because I know if I didn't, I'd be holding a cigarette despite having just smoked one before I left.

The old Phillips' house looks eerie as I pull up to it. There's no lights on inside or any signs of anyone being home. The truck is there, so Sherry must be around. I park and, grabbing the bag I brought along, get out of my truck.

I step up on the porch, peering in through a window before knocking. "Sher? It's Dwight."

I wait for a minute or two, before I hear hard footsteps come closer.

"What are you doing here?" Sherry asks through the small opening. She sounds and looks leery.

"I have something you might want."

"What?"

I stick my hand in the bag, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, holding it up so she can see.

She opens the door more, taking it from me. "Thanks."

"I've got, uh, got more packs if you want 'em."

"I do." She lets me in.

The place is cleaner than the last time I came in. The salvageable furniture is upright and moved around to how I guess she likes it. It's bare, but it's a sign she's living here.

"You can drop them on the table." Sherry says, walking into another room without knowing if I'm following or not.

I go into the room where she sits on a couch with a white cover tossed over it as if she's about to paint the walls. I tip the bag over the table, letting the packs fall out.

"Thanks again." She begins to open one.

"There's a pack already opened." I point out.

Sherry finds it and takes a cigarette out from there instead. "Gotta lighter?"

I fish it out of my pocket. "Here, keep it."

She lights the cigarette, puffing out smoke. "Want one?"

I shouldn't. I shake my head. "I quit."

"Since when?"

"Since we found out Nan was pregnant."

"Huh." She flicks ash. "How is Nan? And your, um, little girl?"

"They're good." I sniff, looking around. "Do you have a window open? I smell rain."

"There are some holes in the attic."

"Oh." I look up despite not being able to see the attic.

"I thought you didn't want to see me," She says, "After our last conversation."

I look her over. "You were stealing eggs and…"

"And?" Her eyes search mine.

I shake my head again, not wanting to get into another fight. "Nothing. Enjoy your cigarettes."

"Hey, how did you patch up the roof that one time?"

I turn. "What?"

"Remember when we had a leak in the house we were renting after we got married?"

"Yeah...the landlord wouldn't come and fix it, so I had to."

"Yeah," She quietly chuckles, "That's how we knew you were handy."

I huff, smiling a little. "Yeah, it was the first time I fixed anything without Sam."

"Yeah." She blows smoke. "You sure you don't want one?"

"No, I can't. Nan wasn't happy I had them to begin with."

Her face loses the smile. "How did you patch up the roof?"

"Just some boards until I could a roofer to come."

She nods. "Thanks."

The rain starts beating down harder. "I guess I should head back."

"They can't get along without you for five minutes?"

"I'll see you later."

"Hey, let me give you some beer."

I glance over my shoulder. "What?"

"I went to Hilltop a few days ago," She walks into the kitchen, "I was able to get some fresh brewed beer." She returns with a crate of brown bottles. "I don't really like lagers, so you can have some of 'em in exchange for the cigarettes."

"I wasn't asking for a trade off."

"Well, just take 'em."

"You're really gonna be picky about beer?"

She shrugs. "I kept some of it."

"Thanks." I take the crate.

"I've also got pretzels…" She says, putting her cigarette up to her lips, "You wanna crack a cold one like we used to?"

I look from the beer to her. Her eyes are softer than they were a while ago as she pleads with them.

"I don't think so, Sherry."

"Oh, come on," She eggs, "For old time's sake."

"Nan-"

"Nan needs to learn how to take care of things when you aren't around." She scoffs, somewhat acidic as she blows smoke. "What would she do if someone bad came around when you were gone?"

I huff through my nostrils. "Thanks for the beer."

I head for the door, ignoring her sighs behind me.

"D, wait, I'm sorry."

"No, you're not." I balance the crate under my arm so I can open the door to the truck.

"It's hard," She stands on the porch, "I never loved anyone but you and I...I know I let you down and…"

I look over as I open the driver's side door.

Her eyes look away from mine. "It's hard to know that you love someone else like you used to love me, because of how I let you down."

I stare for a moment. "You didn't let me down, Sherry. You left me behind and said it was because you were afraid of me, and couldn't stand to look at me."

"Because of the guilt," She looks at me with a pained expression, "Not because of your scars, or how they changed you."

I scoff under my breath. "They didn't change me, I changed myself."

"It wasn't because of that," She insists, "It wasn't because of the scars, D, I swear. It was because of my responsibility to them."

I breathe, glancing at the car door in my hand. "Well...it's all in the past. It's done, so let it go."

"I don't know that that's possible," She croaks, "I've spent years dwelling on it. It was my home."

Our eyes meet. Hers have tears forming in them.

"Just one beer. Please?"

…

Books about childbirth are graphic as all fucking hell. I've seen some gnarly shit that looks tame compared to the dilation model on page twenty-three. I taught health class before, but for some reason childbirth is that phenomenon that never ceases to be cool as shit and equally disgusting. This book about home birth really takes the fucking cake; there's literally an illustration of a woman giving birth in a kiddie pool with afterbirth floating all around her. Jesus.

I take a gander over at Nan and wince a little. You'd think one time of this shit would be enough for her or any other gal. She doesn't notice;

She's been pacing the kitchen, going to the stove every few minutes to stir a pot of soup for the past twenty minutes. Dwight left about two hours ago. Don't know where and she hasn't said, so I'm assuming she either doesn't know either or does know and it's bothering her.

I get up from the couch and make my way into the kitchen. "Need any help making dinner four hours before people normally eat?"

She briefly glances my way as she paces. "I'm making a soup I like to slow cook it for a few hours."

I nod. "Anything I can help with?"

"No, you asked that already."

I watch as she paces in a way that makes it look like she's busy. "You know, Nan marriage isn't-"

"I've been thinking," She stops in her tracks, looking at me funny," And I've decided something."

I stare, curious to know.

Her brows furrow even more. "I never told you about the river."

"Yeah, you did."

"No, no I didn't," She shakes her head, holding up her finger as if she's made a discovery, "I've been thinking about the last conversation I had with you and it was when we brought Rick back, but I never mentioned it to you."

I exhale. "Nan, you-"

"No, I didn't!" She practically shouts. "We talked about people leaving The Sanctuary and...and I think a book, or something, and…" Her eyes meet mine, adamant, but milder. "Birdie. Who we always talk about, but other than that, I didn't mention the river."

I continue to stare. "How else would I have known where to find you?"

She looks off, eye flitting around for answers. I don't know why, but it bothers me to see her try and spin out of it.

I look over at the clock. "It's been thirty minutes."

"What?"

"You said to remind you when it's been thirty minutes, so you could wake Birdie up from her nap."

"Oh," She walks out of the room, "Thanks."

I give a bowing gesture with my hand. She returns to the kitchen, moving past me like I'm not there. A few seconds later, Birdie comes in, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"Come sit down," Nan goes to the fridge, "I'll get you a snack."

I walk to the table and sit down. The chair beside me scoots back and soon Birdie climbs up, which is when I realize she was talking to Birdie. I glance over at Birdie, who's hair is falling out of the bun that kept it out of her face earlier. I puzzle my brows when I notice what looks like a slight unevenness in her bangs.

"Are her bangs crooked?"

Nan looks at me as she sets some water down in front of Birdie. "No."

"They look crooked."

"They aren't," She asserts, bringing Birdie a small bowl of mush, "I trimmed them myself and I made sure they were even."

"If you say so."

"It's just the angle you're looking from." She says, annoyed.

"Mommy, I want chips."

"Eat your applesauce first."

Birdie digs in without argument. I kind of feel like an idiot sitting here since I don't have any reason to.

"I might make some tea, do you want any?"

I peer over to the stove. "I'm not much of a tea drinker."

"Would you like something else?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any bourbon or scotch up in those cabinets, would you?"

"No," She replies, "We might still have beer in the back of the fridge, but I think Dwight drank it all." She opens the fridge door, looking in. "...Nope, it's gone."

"I'll have some wa-"

"We've got iced tea." She looks over.

"Sure."

"I thought you don't like tea."

"I don't like it hot."

"Do you want sugar?"

"It's not already sweetened?"

"No, I don't like pre-sweetened tea," She gets two glasses out, "I like to add my own sugar."

I watch as she takes the glasses back to the counter closest to the fridge. She pulls out a glass pitcher of iced tea and pours for each glass.

"Do you want sugar?"

"Sure."

She gets into another cabinet and there's a delicate clinking of porcelain and silver. She brings the sugar to the table and then the glasses, giving one to me, and then she travels back to put the pitcher away. She comes over and just as she's about to sit down, she hesitates in her motion. It looks as if she's trying to remember if she's forgotten anything, or has caught herself just about to relax when she's been busy-making.

"Sit down, Mommy."

Nan smiles and does just that, though you can tell she's perturbed.

Birdie drops her spoon into the bowl. "Done!"

Nan abruptly gets up. "Okay, I'll get you some…." Her eyes and mouth squeezed shut. Her hand grabs the table and she controls her breathing.

"You alright?"

She nods with her face still scrunched up. She lets out a heavy breath through her nose. "It was just a-"

"Cramp?"

Her eyes open but the discomfort is still on her face. She turns. "It just took me by surprise."

"I thought you didn't get them."

"I haven't been," Nan brings over a metal container, still in clear pain, "Here, you go."

"'I want more than that." Birdie tells her, looking up from the handful of kettle chips Nan set in her bowl.

Nan obliges, giving her a few more chips before setting the container on the table and sitting back down.

I continue to observe her, feeling a pang in my stomach. "Is my being here really that taxing on you?"

Her eyes pick up and her brows perplex slightly.

I swallow down the small guilt. "Am I really that big of a fucking burden?"

She doesn't say anything. She just stares in the same way.

"Don't say 'fuck', Negan." Birdie points her finger at me.

Nan's gaze quickly turns. "Birdie!"

"He said a bad word, Mommy."

"Well, so did you," Nan says, "Watch your mouth." She looks at me. "Both of you."

"Hey, don't yell!" Birdie argues, despite the fact that her mother didn't yell.

"I'm serious," Nan warns her with a look, "Watch it."

"You watch it!"

Nan nods her head directionally. "Go sit in timeout."

"No!"

"Now."

"I don't want to!"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" I finally step in, probably out of place.

"Yes."

"Well, your poor mother then, because you are rude as all get out."

"So?" Birdie crunches her chips.

"Negan, stay out of this."

"Yeah, stay out."

"Birdie!" Nan raises her voice. "I said go sit in timeout until you're ready to behave. Do you hear me? Now!"

The kid gets down off her chair and marches out in a huff.

I turn back, looking at Nan. I think Mama's on edge.

She sighs, reaching over for the sugar. She uses the little spoon to scoop two dollops of sugar in her glass. She stirs like she's agitated. She lets go of the spoon mid-stir, causing a clank. Her eyes find the clock.

"Is this over Dwight?"

"What?"

"You're erraticness."

"I'm not erratic."

"You sure about that?" I raise my brow. "You've been moving around this kitchen like the ball from Pong."

Her brows furrow.

"It's a-"

"I know what Pong is," She stares, "I don't know what you're talking about though."

I chuckle under my breath. "Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not-"

"You are and you know you are."

She scoffs at that. "Like I said earlier; mind your own business."

I drag the sugar bowl my way. "You didn't answer my question."

"I think I just did."

"I meant the other one," I stir the sugar, "I asked if I was a burden." I look at her.

She looks back. She turns her head towards the window. "The rain's stopped."

I keep my eyes on her. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," She gets up with a sigh, "I forgot to add the thyme."

I swallow, glancing down at my hands on the table.

"Have you ever had spring chicken soup?"

"I don't know," I exhale, "I don't think so."

"I think you'll like it," She says mildly, "I think I made too much, though. I wasn't sure how much to make. It's usually just the three of us."

I take a quiet breath. "Sorry if I inconvenienced you."

Steam curls up as she moves the lid off the pot. "You didn't."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Hope you're all taking care!**


	30. Chapter 30

The road is hard to see with the buckets of rain pouring down on the windshield. I drive home slow, turning on my brights for a brief moment to see better and then quickly shutting them off, reminded that they'll attract walkers. The slow drive is making me regret giving Sherry the rest of my cigarettes.

The house looks small and dark with all the rain coming down. I check my watch before getting out of the truck. It's just now eight o'clock. Shit.

I run over to the front door to keep from getting soaked. I go to open the door, but it's locked, so I fish for the keys in my pocket.

"Shit." I reach down and pick them up after dropping them. I can smell the alcohol on my breath as I flip through my keys. I shake off the wetness and unlock the door. I slick back my wet hair out of my face as I kick off my muddy boots once I'm inside.

The house is silent except for the patter of the rain outside. There's a faint murmuring coming from the living room and the glowing blue light means it must be a movie. I glance into the kitchen because the light above the sink is on.

I walk to the light. The sink is empty and clean. The herb garden above is fragrant, so Nan must have just watered it.

"Boy, I'd sure hate to be you right now."

I turn my head to see Negan with his feet on the coffee table. The blue light from the TV flashes off his smirking face. I turn off the light and go into the living room. I peer down the unlit hall when Nan and Birdie aren't in the room with him.

I briefly look back at Negan, whose eyes are watching with curiosity. He nods his head to his right, signalling that the girls are somewhere down the hall. I breathe out through my nose and head down that way.

As I'm about to pass Birdie's room, I have to pause. The door is nearly closed, except for a slight crack. The room is dark from what I can tell. I step softly to the door, putting my hand on the handle. I open the door and when I look in, I find Birdie curled up asleep in her bed.

She stirs and I bring the door back until it's almost shut. I had a feeling she'd be in there; if she were in our bed, the door would have just been left wide open. It's not a good sign and it makes walking to the bedroom even more nerve-racking.

When I take myself down the rest of the way to Nan and I's bedroom, I see the light on. Nan comes into view of the half open door and then out as she crosses the room. She then comes back and goes out of view again.

I clear my throat and, with a light hand, push the door open. Nan stops pacing immediately, staring at me as I come in.

"Uh, hey…" Is all I can think to say.

"Hey?" She scoffs incredulously. "Where the hell have you been? You've been gone seven hours, Dwight!"

"I know, I'm sorry," I say sincerely. "I didn't mean to be gone that long."

Nan scoffs again. "You didn't mean to- Where have you been?"

I scratch the back of my head. "Uh, I was up the road. At Sherry's."

Her face changes. "You were at Sherry's?"

"Um, yeah, I went to-"

"Why were you at Sherry's?"

"I was giving her the rest of my cigarettes," I explain to her. "You were upset that I was smoking again and so I got them out of the house."

She stares. "Why were you gone for so long?"

"She offered me a beer," I tell her, "We got to talking and I lost track of time."

"You lost track of time?" She huffs, crossing her arms. "Talking?"

"Well, I helped her put up a tarp over a hole in the attic to keep the rain from ruining the ceilings."

"And you forgot to check your watch?"

"Um...well, I did, but-"

"But what?"

"I don't know, we were talking…" I sigh, scratching my head, "I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't have been gone that long."

She shakes her head, sneering through her nose, before walking over to the dresser in angry silence. She opens the second drawer.

I look her over, before my eyes move towards the bed. "Why's Birdie in her bed?"

"Because she wanted to sleep in it." Nan growls.

"I thought we agreed that-"

"Yeah, well, I can't keep sleeping between you two," She shoves the dresser close, looking at me, "Look at me. I take up a lot of space and I want all the space I can take when I'm sleeping in the fucking heat."

I glance back to our bed, which is admittedly small for three people; especially when one of them's pregnant.

"And I figured since you just made the decision to take off for seven hours, I could just do whatever the fuck I wanted, too."

"Nan, I didn't mean to be gone that long."

"I don't care!" She retorts. "I don't care that you 'lost track of time'. You just left without telling me! I had no clue where you were going, what you were doing. I didn't know what to think."

"Honey, I-"

"Oh, don't honey me," She groans, "Don't talk to me like this is a small fight you can calmly talk your way out of, because it's not. I'm angry at you."

"Nan, I'm just trying to-"

"You know, if I just took off like that, you would be furious," She huffs, "I could never take off the way you did."

"Well, to be fair, you are pregnant."

"I meant anytime, not just now."

I scoff at that. "What are you saying? I'm controlling? I wouldn't let you leave the house without telling me?"

She looks at me plainly. "I meant I _wouldn't_ take off like that. Because it's not okay." She goes over to the bed.

I run my hand down my face. "I'm sorry. Okay? I don't know what else I can say, Nan."

She looks over and it's as if I slapped her across the face. "You don't know what else to say?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know what you want me to say, Nan. I left, I shouldn't have done that, I was gone for seven hours; I shouldn't have done that either. I don't know what else there is to say that's good enough!"

"Don't yell at me."

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

I scoff. "Okay." I walk to the bathroom. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"I'm going to bed." Nan icily replies.

I take off my soaking wet clothes and get in the shower. The water's lukewarm, but I don't have a choice but to wash up with it. If I wanted hot water, I guess I shouldn't have gotten home at eight at night. When I get out, I'm reminded I didn't bring a change of clothes and Nan would probably not answer if I asked her.

After brushing my teeth, I walk out of the bathroom with a towel around my waist. Nan, to my surprise, is still awake. In fact, she's sitting upright in bed with her arms folded. So, the fight's not over.

I go to the dresser and get out a clean pair of boxer briefs and a shirt. I can feel Nan's eyes on me as I dress, but I decided to wait until she says something. If I asked what, she'd say nothing. My stomach growls a little.

"I made soup, but there isn't any left." She finally says with a short tone. "Negan was hungry."

I look over at her and she immediately meets my gaze. "Was that supposed to upset me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I smile incredulously. "So, you didn't bring up Negan just to get a rise out of me?"

"No."

"Bullshit," I say, "This is the same argument we had last night."

"Oh, when you called me whore?"

"I never said that!"

"It was implied," She retorts, "What else would that sandwich comment be about? That I have a good memory?"

"I have never called you a whore, because I don't believe it, and you know that."

"Then why did you say it?"

"Because I...thought it was weird that you remembered," I reply, "There. Happy? I thought it was weird that you remembered."

She stares at me, puzzled. "Why is that so weird?"

"I don't know."

"No, you do know, so just say it."

"It just was, okay?"

She shrugs. "I remember how you like your sandwiches. Is that also weird?"

"No." I answer, quickly becoming frustrated.

"Why?"

I run my hand down my face. "I don't know. I'm your husband, so I guess that's why."

Nan scoffs quietly. "So, it's weird to remember anything about anyone who I'm not married to?"

"No, but small details are a little odd, don't you think?"

"No, not at all," She argues, "Remembering little things about people is part of being a good friend, or partner."

"So, Negan's your friend?" I scoff.

She looks at me in a way like she's telling me to grow up. "I was married to him. I remember things, yeah, even little, somewhat insignificant things, about him. I'm sorry my mind just doesn't block out memories like yours."

"That's a little unfair," I scoff again, "I might have a shitty memory sometimes, but I remember a lot about you. Besides, that's not even the point."

"Then what is the point, Dwight?" Nan's voice raises a little. "Is it because it's Negan? Remembering anything about him is unfathomable?"

"Trust me, no one's forgot about Negan."

Her eyes moved across my face. Her folded arms relax, forming a ring around her belly. "So, then it's that I remembered something good, or...harmless."

I chuckle under my breath. "Is there anything good about Negan?"

Nan turns her gaze forward and looks off in that direction. She lightly shrugs one shoulder. "Birdie."

"Birdie doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"Because she's…"

Nan looks back over. "Not his?"

My eyes meet hers.

"She is his."

"No, she isn't."

Nan's face becomes softer, less angry. Almost sympathetic, which annoys me. "Dwight-"

"You know what?" I put my hand out towards her. "Let's drop it, alright? It's the last thing I want to argue about right now."

"It's not as if we've never acknowledged it before."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to acknowledge it now."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" I huff at her. "Because I don't want to talk about how the best thing in my life came from Negan."

This is why I don't like arguing. It brings up shit that shouldn't be said aloud.

Nan stares for a moment, before raising her brows with an inhale. "Wow, two nights in a row my past sex life gets brought up."

I exhale, frustrated at myself. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, you did," She says, "And you meant it that way last night, too."

"Nan, I don't want to fight."

"Well, it's a little too late for that," Nan dryly huffs, turning off her lamp.

I sigh through my nose and resolve to do the same. She turns over as I get in the bed and neither of us say another word, even though we both lay awake for a good while.

…

It didn't rain through the night like I thought it would. It stopped just around eleven o'clock which was when I finally drifted to sleep. I wished it hadn't stopped. All I could hear after the rain was the calmness of Dwight's breathing as he slept. He sleeps on his back usually, which for some reason makes his breath more apparent. Normally, it wouldn't bother me in the slightest, but I'm so angry at him that each time he exhaled, I could feel a knot tighten in my throat. The stirrings of him waking up before me this morning were so sharply heard that all else was densely silent.

"Mommy!" Birdie pounces onto the bed and crawls my way. Each movement shakes me more out of sleep. "Mommy, wake up!"

"Hm?" I murmur, turning over. "What is it?"

"It's time to wake up," She tells me as she pets my hair, "You're sleeping the longest."

"I am?" I stretch my arms out. "Everyone else is awake, huh?"

"Yeah." Birdie causally confirms.

"Is breakfast ready?"

She nods. "You gonna throw up?"

"I don't think so."

"You always throw up."

"Well, I haven't felt like it all morning, so I think I'm okay."

"Are you gonna come eat breakfast?"

"Yeah," I push myself up, "Just give me a minute." The clock on Dwight's side reads seven forty-five.

"I'll wait for you." Birdie sits on the bed patiently.

"Oh, thank you." I go to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

"I sleeped in my room last night."

"I know, first time in a while," I muffle through the foamy toothpaste, "Way to go."

"Did you miss me?"

"I did, but I certainly didn't miss your stinky feet."

Birdie smells her own feet on my bed as I get dressed. I glance over at the cup of tea on my nightstand.

"Mommy, smell 'em." Birdie lifts one of her small feet in the air.

"What are you trying to make me throw up?"

"Yeah."

I smell her foot. "Whoof! This puppy is rank."

Birdie pulls her foot back with a teasing giggle.

"Alright, weirdo, let's go eat."

"Your tea, Mommy." Birdie points to the cup.

I look over at it again. I begrudgingly walk over and take it for Birdie's sake, although I'm not sure she'd even pick up on a cue like that.

When I finally make my appearance, I find Negan sitting in the living room, drinking from a coffee mug, while Dwight's in the kitchen.

"Good morning."

"Morning." I greet back, which still feels awkward. I look into the kitchen, but immediately redirect my gaze when Dwight and I make eye contact. I clear my throat. "Breakfast is ready."

"Yep." He gets up with a groan and starts to head in.

"Race you!" Birdie runs past both of us.

Negan chuckles as we enter the kitchen.

"I beat you!" Birdie climbs up on her chair.

"You had an unfair head start." Negan hassles.

"No, I'm just faster."

"Oh, please, I could run circles around you."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh."

"No, you can't," Her brows furrow at Negan, "Mom, tell him he can't."

"Why don't you sit on your bottom and eat breakfast?"

Birdie moves out from under her knees and sits properly. "I'm faster."

"Sure, when you cheat." Negan retorts with a grin.

"Stop talking to me."

"Get out of the kitchen, if you can't stand the heat."

"You get out."

"Stop it," I look between them, "Both of you."

I go over to the sink and pour out the cold tea into the sink. I ignore Dwight's eyes as I tread casually to the table.

"So, what's for breakfast?" I ask Birdie.

"Oatmeal."

"Mmm, your favorite."

"I wanted waffles."

"Tomorrow." I peck the top of her head.

Dwight comes by the table and sets a bowl in front of Birdie and we almost collide as I try to move around him to the stove. I take a bowl from the cabinet and spoon some of the lumpy oatmeal into it. Again, I almost bump into Dwight as I turn to take it back to the table.

He sits down right as I set my bowl at my place at the table. I look to my right and see that I'm gonna have to ask if Negan wants a bowl.

He smiles as he tips back his mug, raising his brows as he does, which somehow I read it as a polite, albeit smart way of asking. So, because my husband's apparently too petty to ask him, I walk back over to the stove. Every step I take feels like I've swallowed a cannonball. That's the worst part about the third trimester; feeling like the heaviest thing in the world.

"Thanks." Negan smiles as I offer him the bowl.

"Sure." I ease down in my chair, making brief eye contact with Dwight.

"Mommy, can I have a sister?"

"A sister?" I stir the blueberries and almond slices around my bowl. "I thought you didn't want a sibling?"

"I wanna sister."

"Why do you want a sister?"

"Because I can pet her hair like this." Birdie demonstrates by leaning over and running her hand soothingly over my hair.

I smile, snickering. "Well, you can do that with a brother."

"No, I wanna sister."

"Hm, well, I don't really get to decide, Pigeon."

"How come?"

"Because it doesn't work that way," I tell her, "It's just sort of a surprise. I didn't know you were a girl until just before you were born."

My eyes pick up when I get the sense Negan's looking at me. What?

"Aw! I wanna sister."

"Well, keep your fingers crossed," I say, going back to my oatmeal, "And eat your breakfast."

"I would be good to a sister." Birdie nibbles on a blueberry.

"What if it's a boy?" I ask her. "You're gonna be mean?"

"Boys are trash."

Negan breaks out in a chuckle.

"Did Laura tell you that?"

"Yeah."

I roll my eyes. "Well, a baby brother would not be trash."

"Yeah, boys are jerks."

"She's got a point." Negan butts in.

I give him a look, before turning my head to Birdie. "Eat your oatmeal, you brat."

She cackles and continues to eat her breakfast. After that conversation, the table goes quiet except for the clanking of spoons against bowls. The baby kicks a little, but I keep it to myself.

"Daddy, I wanna swing today."

"Your tire's wet, Bird." Dwight answers, not looking up from his bowl.

"When it dries."

"Okay, but it'll have to wait until I get back." Back?

"Where you going?"

"Negan and I have to go fix the barrier."

I look over. "But it just rained."

Dwight glances up, meeting my eyes. He shrugs nonchalantly. "It's not raining now."

I can feel the anger rising again. "Yeah, but the mud could still be thick."

He shrugs again. "We're fixing one thing."

"I think you should wait." I strongly suggest.

Dwight gets up from the table and carries his bowl to the sink. I look over at Negan as he rinses the dish out with a feeling curling in my stomach.

"We're leaving after we eat," Dwight passes the table as he heads out of the kitchen, "So, eat up."

I watch for as long as I can see him. He goes out into the garage. I breathe, looking back at Negan. I almost tell him he doesn't have to go. Instead, I just offer a meek tip of my smile.

"Mommy, I'm done."

I check her bowl. "Okay."

She gets down from the table. "Let's go play the tiger game."

"In a minute." Negan answers, even though I thought she was speaking to me.

Birdie goes into the living room. "Hurry!"

I watch as she goes. "I think she likes you."

"Think?"

"Well, you never know with Birdie. She's headstrong and, well, rude."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

I huff through my nose, humored. "You've only been here like three days. Wait a little longer, you'll see."

Negan chuckles but when it falls short, I glance over. I guess that he won't be here long. I clear my throat again and eat.

"I take it you and the two-face must have had it out." Negan digs around his bowl. When I look over, he says; "I heard it over the TV."

"What did you hear?" I ask him, embarrassed.

"Nothing really, your voices were too low."

I sigh to myself, relieved. "Don't bring up Dwight's face."

Negan pauses, meeting my gaze. "What?"

"When you're out there today," I warn him, "Don't mention the scars."

"What is he still sensitive about that?"

I give him a look. "Do me a favor and don't bring it up, or anything else that will pissed him off."

"Such as?" Negan asks, starting to smile. I just look at him, which makes him snicker. "Alright, I'll be on my best behavior."

"Thank you."

"If you make me a deal."

"What?" I arch my brow. "The deal is that you get to stay here, unchained, until we can get you back."

"I want just a little more than that."

"You always do." I get up with my bowl. "It's for your own good if you just keep your mouth shut."

"I want you to answer a question for me."

"What question?"

Negan comes to the sink with his bowl and mug. "Something about Birdie."

I peer up at him. "No."

"Why not?" He asks. "You don't even know what I was gonna ask."

"Because I have a feeling it's something that I won't want to answer."

"Like what?"

I exhale through my nose, shaking my head. "I don't know. The possibilities are too dreadful to think about."

"I was just gonna ask you a question about you knowing Birdie was a girl."

I glance over.

"Like, why didn't you tell me when you knew?"

"That's what you want to know?" I ask, mildly astonished. "Why?"

"Because I do."

"In exchange for good behavior?"

"Hey, I've been in prison for three years; I'm used to doing a little bartering I'm not proud of to get what I want."

I huff in disbelief. "Are you sure you want to hear the answer?"

"Abso-fuckin'-lutely."

"Watch your mouth!" I shush him.

"Do we have a deal?"

As I go to open my mouth, the garage door opens and shuts again. Dwight comes into sight, looking over at me. I bite my tongue, before looking up at Negan. "Okay, fine."

Negan grins. "Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Let's go." Dwight calls.

Negan chuckles, before looking over his shoulder. "You got it, boss."

The two of them load the truck up with supplies and materials to repair the part of the barrier that Negan broke climbing over. I've climbed over it before without breaking it, so it must have been because of the mud from the rain. The barriers aren't tall; they're mainly to get the dead out, so anyone could climb over. Now that someone has, I re-recognize our vulnerability being out here alone.

"Daddy, I wanna come, too."

"Next time." Dwight's carrying Birdie in one arm, while carrying a heavy-looking toolbox in the other. He tosses it into the back of the truck. "We'll go fishing when the grounds dry."

"Aw, I wanna use the hammer."

He chuckles. "Oh, yeah? What do you use a hammer for?"

"You hit stuff with it." Birdie pounds an invisible hammer against Dwight's shoulder, which humors him even more.

"You think he'll stay in that good a mood as soon as we head out?" Negan asks as he comes into the garage to grab more stuff.

I look over. "Remember the deal."

"Oh, I'll mind my manners," Negan says, "Or pretend I have manners." He chuckles. "But what about your baby daddy?"

"You mean my husband?" I lift my brow.

"Sure," He picks up a duffel bag full of barrier materials, "What's gonna keep him on his beat behavior?"

"Are you gonna be gone until dark again?" Birdie asks Dwight.

"No, I won't be gone that long. I'll be back before lunch."

"Okay."

He pecks her on the temple, before stopping by me at the mouth of the garage. "Uh, she's not wearing shoes."

I take her from him. She's no heavier than the average three-year-old, but it sure is difficult to hold her when my belly's so out there, it could enter a room before I do. I feel like I'm juggling her.

"Is that the last of it?" Negan asks Dwight, coming back over from the truck where he had been loading up.

"Yeah," Dwight answers curtly, "I'll be there in a minute."

Negan looks between us. "I'll start counting."

"Just go wait in the truck." Dwight retorts, irritable.

"Aye, aye, captain."

"Smell you later." Birdie says, pushing up her nose. Something else she picked up from Laura, I'm sure.

Negan chuckles. "Smell you later."

"Not you, Daddy."

Negan snickers, though his smile wanes a bit.

"Just kidding!" Birdie says. "Smell you later, too."

His smile picks up and he heads to the truck.

I carry her to the door to the house and open it up. "Go pick up your blocks for me," I tell her, "I'll run you a bath when I come back."

When I shut the door, Dwight's the only one still standing in the garage. I walk over to the red cord dangling just over my head and take hold of it.

"I'll close it down." I say, coldly civil.

He nods, looking down at his hands. "Can we talk when I get back?"

"About?"

"The fight last night," Dwight scoffs a little, "I wanna talk about it. About what I said to you."

I nod my head, though I'm still incredibly angry.

He nods back in response. "We should only be gone an hour, two tops."

"Okay."

He stands there a moment, before stepping back so I can close down the garage door. He turns to walk to the truck as I pull the cord. I catch a glimpse of Negan in the passenger's side. A pit forms in my stomach.

…

The ride to the barriers is a quiet one. The radio does work, at least the CD player does, but ol' scar face won't turn it on. I don't even think it has anything to do with not wanting the noise to attract rotters; I think he's just being an asshole, because when I saw the CD sticking out, I asked about it. I don't know why he'd rather sit in this unbearably suffocating silence, but so be it. I spent three years in near-absolute silence, so I think I can hack a quiet car ride.

"This sure is a patch of land you've got for yourself." I note, looking out at the trees. "A little creepy, because of all the vacant woods, but hey, solitude is bliss they say."

Dwight doesn't reply.

"How many neighbors did you have before the change?" I ask him, trying to make conversation. "I saw a few houses on the way here, but hell they're so spread out I wonder if they even count as neighbors."

Still nothing.

"You never grilled out with anyone?" I look over. "Went to any house-warming parties, or some lame shit like that?"

Dwight breathes irritably through his nose.

"Huh," I say, "I'm gonna go ahead and assume you did. Rumor has it you were once friendly." This asshole's still not gonna talk, so I just go on. "Yeah, I hated being dragged to all that neighbor bullshit. My wife used to say I had no social grace and a bad sense of humor. Man, was I glad when she decided to flake on a barbecue or what have you. I like people, or I mean used to, but Lucille was right; I'm an asshole, even when I'm being nice. There's no off switch."

"Shit." Dwight stops the truck. The barriers are a few yards away, but the mud ahead is a little swampy. He turns off the truck and opens his door. "Get out; we're gonna have to carry everything over."

I get out of the truck and go around to the bed. I can hear growling, but I can't see from which direction it's coming. I sling a hefty duffel bag over my shoulder and start to hoof it along the barrier. I find out the growling is coming from a rotter stuck in the mud. Dwight crushes it's skull, looking over at me.

"My bad." I say.

We carry on in the same silence, although the thick mud isn't fun.

"So, these barriers are just to keep the dead out, is that right?" I huff as I trek through the mud. "I only ask because I climbed over that thing easy-peasy. It's not particularly tall or hard to figure out how to get over, so I'm guessing the living don't concern you?"

"We live out in the middle of nowhere," He answers, much to my surprise, "So, yeah, I'm concerned about people, but the dead are easier to manage."

"Ever consider going back?" I inquire, unsatisfied. My daughter's out here, so that wasn't a good enough answer. "Heard you were square with your old pal, Daryl."

"This is our home."

Kind of dumbass place to call home, if you ask me. Unguarded from the living...which I guess would include me.

Another rotter snarls and grabs for us as we come up on the part of the barrier that needs fixing. When I climbed over it, the weight caused one of the logs to shift, which then made the other tethered to it to fall as well. The rain loosening up the dirt around where they're embedded helped, I'm sure.

The rotter dizzily limps our way with one snapped ankle slowing it down. Dwight shoves it down and breaks open it's head like a pumpkin. What a fucking sound. The way a skull busts open is one of the most gruesome fucking sounds you'lll ever hear. You don't forget it; it stays with you.

Dwight looks my way again with a pissy expression. Yeah, I get it; it's my fault. More growling comes from beyond the barriers. They're not all that tall, but just tall enough to where you can just make out the top of dead heads.

Dwight gets closer to the barriers and peeks through. He then walks over to where he dropped his toolbox. "There's only a handful out there. Go take care of 'em, while I prep the repair."

"Prep the repair?" I huff, a little out of breath from trudging in the mud. "Yeah, okay. Pass me a screwdriver."

"Didn't bring one," He hands me a hammer, "You can use this."

"It could get stuck."

"Well, that's all I have that you can use, so don't let it get stuck." Dwight replies, prickishly. "Clear off any that are stuck on the barrier while you're at it."

Figures I'd be on rotter duty while he stands around on the safe side "prepping the repair," whatever the fuck that means. I bring the hammer down on the first one that notices me. I whistle to get the rests' attention.

It's weird; I thought killing walkers would be therapeutic. Like blowing off the steam of being stuck in a cell the size of a guest bathroom for nearly four years. But it's not; it didn't make me feel better when I first got out a few days ago and it doesn't help now. It seemed to have worked for Michonne, but to me it just feels like a chore I don't want to do; maybe because it is. Maybe I don't know what I'm trying to blow off.

Goddammit. The claw of the hammer got stuck in this asshole's eyesocket, like I fucking said it would. The yellowed eye bulged out, but the fucker's still alive. I tug on the handle to yank it out, all while trying to keep him from taking a chunk out of me. Another one is approaching, which makes me tug on the hammer even more. I shove it back hard enough to knock it down, all while fighting off the one still stuck on the hammer. It grabs my leg, so I stomp down in its arm until it breaks off, before kicking him in the face.

I put my foot on the other one and tug until the bone breaks against the force and the hammer pulls out from both the socket and the cheek. I hit the ugly asshole a second time, killing it, but I have to put my foot on it again to dislodge the hammer. I get it unstuck just in time to drive it into the guy who had gotten back up. Fuck, I forgot how exhausting this shit is.

"You done yet?" Dwight calls out.

I scoff, trying to catch my breath after I kill the last one. All I smell is congealed blood, rotted guts, and wet mud. I pull off the bony hand still gripping my pant leg. "Yeah."

"Well, then get over here."

"Right away," I sarcastically say under my breath, "No need to thank me, what are pals for? Your face doesn't look like beef jerky, by the way."

I cross back over to the other side of the barrier, where Dwight's measuring out rope. "We've gotta get the pikes back into the ground, so we can tie 'em together."

"Okay."

"Start with that on," He nods towards it, "It faces this side."

I lift the pike and try to lodge it back into the ground, which is not fucking easy.

"You have to stick it in a different part of the ground," Dwight says, "You pulled up the last hole it was in and now the ground's too soft."

I roll my eyes at the fucking crabby tone, before I move the postion of the pike. I drive it in, waiting for D to give the okay.

"A little further," He says, "Okay, stop."

I wipe the sweat from my brow as he grabs the other pike.

"Alright, get that one back in the ground now." I look at him, wondering if his arms are fucking broken. He apparently catches that, because his face grows more severe. "You're the one who broke it, so you're the one who's gonna fix it."

I lift up the other pike. "A please would be nice."

"Hold it against the other one, so I can tie it."

Since the spikes had to be put in different places, they're slightly off from touching in the middle, so I have to push the one pike towards the other. The pikes aren't that heavy, but it's a bitch to get 'em to move when they're in the ground. Fuck, it's almost there. Dwight's starting to bring the rope around both to lock it into place. I push harder, feeling the sweat bead up all over my back and face. Come the fuck on.

"Fuck!" Dwight jolts away, holding his hand. He looks over the hand, which is starting to bleed. He peers up at me. "You fucking slit my knuckle open."

"Whoops." I say, not knowing what else to say.

He curses under his breath, before stalking over to a canteen by the toolbox. I walk over as he pours the water over the gash across his knuckle.

"Is it broken?"

"I don't know," He grumbles, ripping off an end of his flannel, "Just go back and keep the pikes together."

I nod. Just before I head back, my eyes catch a gleam from the toolbox. It's the sunlight bouncing off the metal of a screwdriver. I twist my jaw to the side.

"Thought you didn't bring a screwdriver?"

Dwight wraps his hand in the flannel, not paying any mind. "Whoops."

I scoff, licking my lip. I bite my tongue and go back to the barrier. A drop hits my face and I look up. You've gotta be fucking me. It starts raining.

I set the pike back and Dwight pushes the other closer and ties them together until they're locked together. Once it's done we both let go of the pikes, nervous that they'll move. But they're tied tight, so they don't budge.

I pant, looking over at Dwight for whatever's next. He looks back at me. A hand comes over the barrier, grabbing for Dwight. It takes hold of his shirtsleeve. The walker's stuck on the pike next to the one we just fixed and walked itself far enough onto the pike to reach over.

I grab the hammer from the ground, reach over and stick the claw in the side of its head. It droops over and Dwight breaks free, slipping back in the mud. His breath is a little heavier after the struggle. We look at each other again.

He fixes his shirt. "I thought I said to take care of the ones on the barrier?"

I furrow my brows. He turns and walks back to the toolbox. I look at the dead lady on the spike. She wasn't there before, so she must have just impaled herself.

I wipe the rain off my face and push my hair back, before glancing over at Dwight.

"You're welcome, by the way."

He turns his head. "What?"

"For saving you just now."

Dwight scoffs. "You didn't save me."

"Really? Because that ugly thing had a good grip on your shirt and if I hadn't stuck her with the hammer, you might have been chow."

"I was taking off my shirt when you did," He says, "I would have been fine. Now, get the hammer, so we can head back."

I huff into an incredulous smile. I poke my tongue in my cheek, fighting off the urge to say something as I go fetch the fuckign hammer. I have to rip it out of the rotter's skull, because, surprise, surprise, it got stuck.

I'm drenched to the bone and so is Dwight by time we pack up to walk back to the truck. The mud's gotten runny but thicker, making it a bitch to walk in.

"You know," I say with a rasp, "Those barriers are smart, but they aren't all that sturdy being tied together with rope."

"They've kept the dead out just fine."

"Yeah, but they can fall apart easy," I tell him, "Not to sound like a broken record, but especially when someone climbs over them."

"So, I'll plant smaller spikes in between," He stubbornly retorts, "Up the risk of climbing over and collapsing the barrier."

"Or, you could reinforce it with screws and steel."

"No."

I huff. "I'm just trying to-"

Dwight swiftly turns. "The Sanctuary was fenced in by flimsy chain link fences with dead chained all around and only a few trusses to support it," He says, "The barriers have better support and provide the same simple function of keeping the dead out."

"Yeah, but the fences at The Sanctuary also kept the living out."

"No, guards and thirty feet of rotters did," He retorts, "And people still got in."

I sneer. "Gee, I wonder how they managed that?"

At that, Dwight scoffs. "Keep walking."

"What you're not gonna take credit?"

"Keep walking, asshole."

"Funny how you ended up here after you did so much for Rick and the gang," I trudge on, "If it weren't for you, they would still be sitting on eggs for me." That suddenly makes me angry. He is part of the reason I spent years behind bars.

He doesn't say anything. The rain's not that heavy that he didn't hear me.

"And exile is the thanks you get."

"The exile was for what I had done before I offered to help them."

"What? Helping bring me down wasn't good enough?" I chuckle derisively. "Nan told me it wasn't even voted on to exile you; Daryl still had a chip on his shoulder over that girl you killed and so you split because he said so."

He looks over at me.

"And nobody argued for your sake," I go on, "Even though you were taking a woman and her baby god knows where. Not even the famous Rick Grimes."

Dwight stops his walk this time, still staring.

I grin. "I guess taking credit is kind of embarrassing when it didn't pay off, right?"

"Oh, so, what? You're mocking me now?" He retorts with amused brows. "I helped Rick beat you and all I got out of it was exiled?"

"Kind of makes you as much of a loser as I am."

Dwight huffs, moving the hair out of his face. "Yeah, I guess that does suck, except helping them stop you was never about what I would get out of it. It was about stopping you from ruining more lives."

I scoff at that.

"It was about getting Nan out, because she didn't want to raise Birdie there with you in control."

I scowl and he scoffs, humored by something.

"Putting an end to the Saviors wasn't about glory, or forgiveness," He starts to walk again, "It was about doing what was right. Being exiled was just punishment for not doing it a long time ago."

I stand there for a moment, bitterly almost wishing I hadn't saved him from that bitch on the pike. How many fucking times do I have to hear it? I continue to trek back to the truck.

"You ever find Sherry?"

He glances over his shoulder a moment. "No."

"Wow, she really took off, huh?"

"Yeah, looks like it."

"I wonder why she never came back?"

"I don't know."

"I've been in a cell for three years, so she can't still be afraid of little ol' me."

He adjusts the duffle bag on his shoulder.

I smirk a little. "You know, she used to give me hell over what I did to you."

Dwight keeps on walking.

"Man, she did not like how your face looked after you got the iron," I chuckle, "Can't say I blame her. I really am sorry for having to do that, but you left me no choice."

"I left you no choice?" He stops again, looking back at me with that unbelievable expression again.

"Well, would you rather I had killed you? You needed to be made an example of." I can't help but smile a toothy ass grin. I scrunch my nose. "Man, I can still smell the stench of your flesh burning as I held the iron to your face. Jesus, what a fucking smell. Half the people watching were hurling up their breakfast."

His face starts to burn.

"I guessing you didn't forget the smell either, right?" I egg on. "Shit, how could you? And the pain? Well, at least you didn't pass out like Mark did. Aaannd having a face like that didn't stop you from landing one of the prettiest gals in The Sanctuary, so in some ways, you're welcome."

Dwight throws the duffle bag unexpectedly and I catch it, but being off my guard, I crash under the bag's weight. Landing square on my back knocks the wind out of me. I shove the bag off and curl with a groan as I get up.

"Jesus," The entire backside of me is soaked with mud, "It was fucking a compliment."

He clocks me across the jaw, making me slip back a little, but I catch my foot. I touch the spot, before looking over at him. I already broke my word to Nan; it won't hurt me any worse kicking this prick's ass. But before I can make a move, a gunshot echoes off the trees. It sounded close. We both look in the direction of the house.

…

I scrub my hands with the bar of soap, running it up to the crook of my elbow, before rinsing it off. I then wash the suds from my arms and dry off. I change my shirt, because I hate the feeling of wet sleeves.

"Birdie?" I call out. "Where'd you go?"

"In here!" She sings from all the way to the front of the house.

I find her in the living room, standing on the couch. "What have you done?"

"I made a fort." She crouches down, lifting up the blanket she's thrown across one half of the couch. "See?"

"Honey, that's Negan's." I go over, taking up the blanket. "It wasn't nice to unfold it."

"Hey, you took my fort!"

"Go get one of your blankets."

"I don't want to."

I set the folded blanket on the table and pick up the sheet I gave him. "Well, you can't just make a mess of other people's things."

"I like being mean to Negan."

I look at her, setting the sheet down on top of the blanket. "Yeah? Why is that?"

"Because it's funny."

I smirk a little as I take his pillow and the linens and move them under the table. "I think you should be nice."

"Why?"

"Because it's cool to be nice to people."

"He's mouthy."

"Mouthy?"

"Yeah, he talks back to me."

"Oh, so you don't like a dose of your own medicine, huh?"

"No."

"Hm." I arch my brow. I look out the slider glass window when I think I hear the truck. Before I can unbeach myself from the couch, the truck goes flying by, out of sight to the side of the house. "What the hell?"

"Daddy's home!"

"Yeah." I walk to the garage door, puzzled. I put on my rain boots and coat. "Wait right here in the hall for me, okay?"

"Okay."

I open the door and both men are standing right at the mouth, staring down at the dead deer lying in the center. Dwight's chest heaves like he's been running. He looks up from the deer to me.

"What?" I ask him.

He swallows spit. "We heard a gunshot."

"I spotted a deer and you said we were low on venison."

His breath halts for a moment as he gazes back

down at the deer. "You shot a deer?"

"Yeah."

"What? And then you...dragged it in here?"

"Yeah, I was keeping it here until you got back to clean it."

"It's...on the garage floor, Nan," He says, "You didn't even lay down the tarp."

"I couldn't find it." I say, a little embarrassed and pissed because I feel stupid.

"Um," Dwight puts his hand over his eyes, exhaling, "Okay, I'll look it over. Just go back inside."

"What happened to your hand?"

Negan's eyes flick to Dwight. Dwight looks at the fabric around his hand as if he forgot it was there. "Oh, it got caught between the pike when we were moving them together."

I nod, before looking him and Negan over. "Is it fixed?"

"Yeah." Dwight nods back, "I gotta wash up before I touch this deer."

I step aside as he passes me and enters the house to a buoyant greeting from Birdie. I look at Negan as the door shuts behind me.

"We saw the blood mixed with the mud out there," He motions behind him, "The drag marks. I think we both thought something had happened."

"Well, it was just me."

Negan scoffs, looking at the deer. "Jesus."

I huff through my nose. "You should probably clean up, too."

"Yeah…" He chuckles into an exhale. We enter the house together.

"Wow, you're dirty!" Birdie says to Negan as soon as she sees him.

"Yeah, I kind of took a spill in the mud." He snickers.

"You need a bath." Birdie giggles.

"I won't argue with that."

"I'll get you something to wear. Birdie, go clean up your room." I go down the hall. Dwight's not yet in the shower when I enter our bedroom. I go into the bathroom to find him peeling off the bloody flannel, wincing when the fabric gets caught on the wound.

"Can I see?"

He looks over and tilts his hand my way.

"Ouch." I come closer to the sick. "Are they broken?"

"I don't think so."

"Stitches?"

"I don't know, I haven't cleaned it yet."

"Um, well, let me-"

"I got it, Nan." He says tersely, putting it under the warm water.

I look at him. "I was trying to help."

"I know, but I got it."

I lick my lip, turning. "Fine." I go to the dresser. "Do you have anything Negan can wear?"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't go shooting deers for a while."

I turn, puzzled. "What?"

"You've been having cramps again and you're eight months pregnant."

"I'm fine, don't treat me like a child!"

"It's raining hard out there, Nan," Dwight argues, "You could have gotten hurt."

"What? From rain?"

"No, from dragging a two hundred pound deer in the fucking rain."

I scoff as my cheeks begin to burn up. "I was-"

"We're fine on meat."

I scoff again. "You know what? Fucking clean your own knuckle."

"Thanks." He shuts the door to the bathroom.

"Jerk."

"Bitch." He says low behind the door.

"Asshole!" I shout back. I slam the dresser drawer shut and huff out. I stop short when I see Negan and my daughter in the hallway, looking our way.

Embarrassed, I clear my throat. "I think these might fit."

"Thanks," Negan takes the change of clothes, "And, uh, for what it's worth about the deer?"

"Thanks, but keep it to yourself." I offer my hand out to Birdie. "I thought I said for you to pick up your room?"

"I did." She takes it.

"I'll be the judge of that," I enter her room with her, "Um, hello? It looks like a tornado hit in here."

"Okay, I fibbed."

"Alright, fibber, start picking up your toys off the ground and I'll pick up your shoes."

"You called Daddy a bad word, Mommy."

I pause. "Uh, yeah, I did do that, didn't I?"

"It's not nice to call names." She says, playing with her snake toy.

"You're right, I'm sorry."

"No, you have to say sorry to Daddy."

I fake a smile. "You are right...I do have to say sorry to Daddy."

"Right now."

I breathe in, before reluctantly nodding. "Yeah, okay, I'll be right back."

God, I hate that she heard that. She clearly didn't hear him call me a bitch, which I'm glad for, but now I look like the asshole. And now _I_ have to set an example like a good mom. The bathroom door is still closed, so I knock lightly.

"Dwight?"

"What?" He says sharply.

I pick at my thumb. "Um, can you open the door for a minute?"

"It's not locked."

I open the door to him with a towel around his waist, about to get in the shower.

"What?"

I lick my lip. "Um...I'm sorry for calling you an asshole just now. It wasn't nice."

He looks me over. My apology may have sounded a little contrived.

I clear my throat. "I'm sorry."

"Okay," He nods, still suspicious, "I'm sorry I called you a bitch."

"Okay." I barely say, before turning to leave.

"Is the other shower going?"

I glance over at him. "Huh? Oh, um, yeah, Negan was-"

"Nan, we can't have both running at the same time."

I look at him more sharply, taken back. "I think it'll be okay if you both shower with lukewarm-"

"You couldn't make him wait?"

I pick my thumb a little harder. "He's got mud all over him, Dwight, where would you have liked me to put him until you got out?"

"I don't know," He sighs, frustrated, "Doesn't matter now, I guess, so it's fine."

I stare at him, incredulously. I don't know why, but a lump forms in my throat. "I came back to apologize to you and you're yelling at me."

"Oh my god, I'm not yelling!"

"Might as well be."

He scoffs. "What does that even mean?"

"Nothing, just take your shower." I storm out. Unfortunately, all the heated emotions cause a cramp to hit, stopping me right at the door frame.

"You o-"

"Don't." I breathe through the cramp, treading on before I'm ready.

Back in Birdie's room, Birdie actually cleaned up her toys like I asked, except for the snake.

"Wow, good job, Bird."

"Did you say you're sorry?"

"I did and Daddy...forgave me."

"Good job," She puts out her knuckles, "Pound it."

I smile brightly. "Alright, let's get these shoes picked up."

"My goodness," I say, straining to bend because of the cramp, "You only have three pairs of shoes, Birdie, how hard can it be to put them back in your closet?"

"Very hard."

I chuckle through the discomfort.

"You good there, mom?" Negan asks.

"I thought you were in the shower?"

"Yeah, but the water wasn't all that hot, so I made it quick." He looks me over. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just picking up Birdie's shoes."

He studies me for a second more, before looking off. "Hey, kid, pick up your shoes for your mom. She's having trouble."

"I am not, I got it."

"You look like if you squat down another inch, you'll keel over."

"I'm-"

"I'll pick 'em up, Mommy." Birdie says, picking up her shoes. "There."

I smile. "Thank you."

"Do you wanna play the tiger game, Negan?"

"Can I be the tiger?"

"No!"

He chuckles. "Alright, sure."

"Yay!" Birdie runs out of the room.

Negan smiles after her, before looking back at me with concern. "Maybe you should sit down."

"I'm okay," I say, breathing smoothly, "It was just a cramp."

"I thought those weren't good?"

"No, but it was mild, I just tried to work through it when I should have just breathed."

"Still, you should get off your feet." He rubs the towel over his shaved head.

"Thanks." I sigh, going into the living room with him.

"And, if you don't mind, I'd like to have you answer that question for me."

"You didn't bring up Dwight's scars?"

"Well, it wasn't easy," He says, "Your husband's an asshole."

I huff under my breath.

"Here, Mommy, you can be the giraffe."

"Thanks, Bird," I take the block, "I'll tell you later." I tell Negan. "When she's gone to bed."

…

The rain hasn't stopped since it started again this morning. In fact, there's been light thunderstorms and a little lightning on and off. It's sort of nice to listen to, I just hope it doesn't wake up Birdie, because then I'll have to share my side of the bed.

Dwight rolls out of bed some time in the night to go to the bathroom with a little less care than usual. The movement stirs me a little out of sleep, but I'm already drifting off.

"Nan? Hey, Nan?"

I'm jostled from sleep suddenly, this time by my arm being shook. "Hm? What?" I croak, frustrated.

"My knuckle opened up," He nearly whispers, "I think it needs stitches."

"The first aid kit's under the sink."

"It's my left hand, Nan."

I grumble. "Okay, just give me a minute." I force myself out of bed, swaying a little as I walk to the bathroom. The lights hurt my eyes. I squint, trying to focus on the gaping cut on Dwight's left hand.

"I tried to close it up with glue, but I must have pulled it open in my sleep."

I nod, groggy. "Did you clean it?"

"Yeah."

I yawn. "Okay." I rub my eyes. "Where's the needle?"

The cut isn't very big. It should only need about three stitches. Dwight inhales through his nose abruptly as I pull the needle through.

"Hold still."

In a matter of two minutes, his split knuckle is patched up.

"Thanks."

I nod sleepily.

He nods, too, somewhat shy about it. "Uh, hey, listen, I didn't mean to snap earlier."

Thunder rolls outside.

"Okay."

"I'm sorry."

"Okay." I say again, looking over the mess of bandage wrappings and gauze on the counter. I start to gather it up. "Was the deer no good?"

"No, I got it cleaned and butchered."

I nod, too tired to do anything else. He looks over his stitches. "Are they too tight?"

"No, they're fine," He says, "Thanks for getting up."

"I'm not gonna not stitch you up."

"Yeah," He snickers softly, "You do that a lot?"

"What? Stitch you up?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, well, it's nice putting my one useful skill to good use."

"You remember when you stitched me back at The Sanctuary?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason, I just…" His eyes pause on mine when he looks over at me. They look like they are remembering something unpleasant. He casts them down. "Um, Nan, about what I said to you the other night, or started to say…" I listen, waiting. "I, um, I-"

The thunder booms, creating clamor. We wait for it to stop. I smile very faintly as he looks at me. It finally stops after a few seconds.

"What were you saying?"

"Uh, I-"

"What the hell?" Negan's voice gets both our attention.

"You son of a bitch!"

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading. I hope all are doing well and staying in good physical and mental health. :)**

 **CLTex: Well, they've had it out, but it's just the tip of the iceberg. I think Negan being there is pushing up some unresolved trauma for the both of them that's sort of difficult to address.**

 **Guest: I'm glad you enjoy Negan's dialogue, I always get a little anxious about fleshing him out on paper. I agree, you have to hate him a little to like him.**


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